


between hoping and believing

by cryptidkidprem



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, everyone's really fucking gay, excessive tenderness and great communication, or more like begrudging allies to friends to Really Good Friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkidprem/pseuds/cryptidkidprem
Summary: Jean convinced himself a long time ago that he doesn't have a soulmate. Or maybe he just wants to believe that. Things would be easier if he wasdestinedto be alone. It will at least hurt less when he inevitably winds up that way anyway.And then there's Jeremy, who's been dreaming of meeting his match for years. For some reason, Jeremy seems determined to convince Jean that sometimes he might actually be able to have the things he hopes for, and that soulmate or no, Jean Moreau has people who will stick with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aye it's me ur favorite jerejean lesbian prem back at it again!!!!!!! this time with a hot new soulmate au fresh off the grill!!!!!!!! 
> 
> okay. i'm gonna try not to ramble too much because i have a tendency to do that so. all i'm gonna say thanks for giving this fic a shot & i hope u guys enjoy it !! 
> 
> title is a lyric from the song brighter by patent pending. it's a Very jerejean song and a huge mood for this fic

Kevin Day was waiting outside the house when Jeremy pulled up in a rental car he’d picked up at the airport. Well, no, he hadn’t picked it up. You had to be at least 25 to rent a car, and Jeremy was still a couple years shy of that. _Coach_ had picked up the rental car, but Coach wasn’t there at the moment. He apparently had business to deal with, so Jeremy was driving his rented gray sedan over to Abby Winfield’s house to speak with Jean Moreau solo.

He hadn’t expected Kevin to be there. Jean hadn’t mentioned Kevin when they’d spoken on the phone earlier that morning.

There was only a single car parked in the driveway, but Jeremy parked on the street anyway. He didn’t want to take up the remaining space on the off-chance someone else came home before Jeremy left. He really had no idea how long this was going to take.

Jeremy got out of the car, clicking the button on the little key fob to lock it up, and then pressing at again just to be save. His car back home had a manual lock. He shoved the keys into his jeans pocket and waved at Kevin. He crossed the lawn to the front porch, and Kevin stepped forward to meet him.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, smiling genially at Kevin. “Didn’t realize I’d be seeing you here.”

Kevin didn’t return his smile. He just shrugged half-heartedly, his face set and serious. “I just thought—“ He shrugged. “This might be difficult,” he said, his eyebrows pinching together. “Jean is… not in a good place right now.”

Jeremy felt his own smile falter. “I kinda figured,” he said. “I mean. After what you told me.”

Kevin nodded. If Jeremy didn’t know any better, he’d say Kevin was nervous. Maybe he was. Jean was his friend, right?

“It’s gonna be fine,” Jeremy reassured him, dropping his hand on Kevin’s shoulder.

Kevin nodded. “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound so sure.

Jeremy shifted his weight from what foot to the other, and eventually decided it was best to just get this over with. He gestured to the front door. “After you,” he said.

Kevin hesitated, and shook his head. “No,” he said. “You should go in yourself. I don’t think he wants to see me.”

Jeremy blinked, but nodded. Kevin had said Jean was still pretty badly hurt,it was understandable that he would want to limit his visitors. Jeremy felt a little guilty; he probably could’ve done this over the phone. But Coach had wanted an in-person visit, and Jean had agreed to that, so they could get through this. “Right, okay,” he told Kevin. “Should I just—“ he gestured at the door.

Kevin nodded. “Go on in,” he said, leaning against the railing on the porch and folding his arms across his chest.

Jeremy hesitated for a split second at the door before knocking, feeling a little awkward about it with Kevin standing right there. But the feeling evaporated when a woman Jeremy had to guess was the Foxes nurse opened the door. She smiled at him, but before she could say anything, she spotted Kevin, and her smile faded. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” She asked him.

Kevin frowned. “I have a break between periods,” he told her.

She studied him suspiciously, but eventually she just shook her head and turned back to Jeremy. “You must be Jeremy,” she said. She had kind eyes. “I’m Abby.”

Jeremy nodded, smiling at her. “Yep,” he said, and even though they both knew why he was here he still felt the need to tell her, “I’m here to see Jean. Is he, um,” Jeremy waved his hand vaguely.

Luckily, Abby just nodded. “He’s in the kitchen,” she said, and then stepped aside, gesturing him inside. Jeremy followed her, shutting the door softly behind him. He followed Abby down a short hallway into a small kitchen. Jeremy noticed Jean before Jean noticed him; he was sitting at a small island that separated the kitchen from a cozy-looking dining room, a half-finished sandwich on a plate in front of him.

"Jean?" Abby said, getting Jean's attention. Jean's gaze snapped up at her, and then he immediately pushed his chair back and stood. If Jeremy had been planning to greet him, the words died before they even reached his lips.

Kevin had told Jeremy that Jean wasn’t doing well, but he had not prepared Jeremy for the truth of the situation. To put it lightly, Jean looked like a total fucking mess. Jeremy thought he could see more bruises than skin, and whatever wasn’t bruises was so ghostly pale it looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in years. He had stitches holding together two gashes stretching from the top of his cheek down to his chin, and other cuts striping his face that apparently weren’t deep enough to need stitches. His hair was uneven and Jeremy could see scabs peeking through in the shorter areas.

Jeremy remembered watching Coach Moriyama at a press conference on Monday, declaring Jean out of the game with “a bad sprain.”

Before Jeremy’s silence could stretch long enough to be awkward, Abby said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I think I'll go have a word with Kevin.”

Jean’s gaze focused on Abby. “Kevin’s here?” He asked. It was the first time Jeremy had heard him speak in person. His voice sounded hoarser than it had on the phone.

“Yeah, he’s outside,” Jeremy said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the front door.

That got Jean’s attention on him; the gray-blue of his eyes was startlingly light against the bruising.

Abby left, and it became obvious Jean wasn’t going to say anything. Jeremy nodded, rocking back and forth on his feet, because he’d never been good at standing still. “Right,” he said. “Hey. I’m Jeremy. But, uh, I mean, I guess you know that.” They’d met before. Several times. “Nice to finally talk to you off the court.” He held out his hand to Jean.

Jean’s eyes flicked downwards for a quick second before returning to Jeremy’s face. He didn’t take Jeremy’s hand. In fact, he did just the opposite, and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

The first thing Jean said to him was, “I am not going to touch you.” He stood stalk-still and waited patiently for Jeremy to drop his hand. Which Jeremy did. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. Not off of the court, at least.” Despite the strict words, Jeremy didn’t think he sounded particularly harsh. Just, firm. Wary. But, not unkind.

_No skin-to-skin contact_ , he meant.

Yeah, okay, fair.

Jeremy nodded without missing a beat. “Right,” he said again. "Okay."

Jean watched him for a moment, and his cold expression warmed a bit. Or, no, that wasn’t the right word for it. Jean didn’t look cold, he just looked… guarded. “Wasn’t your coach supposed to come as well?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said, shrugging. “He’s back at the motel. He got caught up with a phone call. Or dozens of phone calls. Some crises back home they can’t solve without him. He says hi.”

Jean nodded, but apparently he didn’t have anything to say to that. Jeremy thought he looked tense.

“Um, can we— Do you wanna sit?” Jeremy asked, gesturing at the table on the other side of the room.

Jean tracked the movement with his eyes, and then gave a slight nod. “Alright,” he said.

Jeremy followed Jean to the table, taking a seat opposite him. Jeremy figured it was best to just cut right to the chase. “So, okay,” he started. Jean’s intent gaze was leveled on him. “Obviously there’s some things we need to talk about.”

Jean nodded, making an affirmative humming sound.

Luckily, Jeremy had no problem doing most of the talking. Hell, he could do all of the talking if you let him. He knew he had more of a problem keeping quiet than he did finding things to say. “First things first,” Jeremy continued. “I know you’re probably pretty attached to the number three, you know, considering,” he made a vague gesture at his own face. “But, unfortunately, that number’s already taken on our line-up. We’ve got Ramirez on three right now,” he told Jean. “I mean, she’s graduating next year, if you wanted to switch, but I don’t know if we can just move everyone around before then. So, I was just wondering, what you wanted to do about that?”

Jean blinked, and for a second he was just silent. Then he huffed. “I don’t care,” he said. “Just give me whatever number is available.” He swallowed, looking down at the table, and then, quieter, like he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it, he said, “I am not so attached to the number three.”

Jeremy didn’t miss a beat. “Okay, cool, perfect,” he said, flashing Jean a smile, relieved to have come to such an easy resolution. He took a moment to go over the team in his head, mentally matching faces with jerseys and trying to remember which numbers were currently in use. “This might change, so like, don’t hold me to this, but I think twenty-nine is available, if that’s okay?”

For a second, something dark flashed across his features. But it was gone too soon for Jeremy to identify. “Double-digits,” he said.

Jeremy nodded. “Is that a problem?”

Jean shook his head slowly. He met Jeremy’s eyes. “No.”

“Awesome,” Jeremy said, giving him another smile. “We’re also still sorting out rooming situations. I’m not sure— How soon will you be up to travel?” He asked. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it out to LA in time for summer practice?”

“Yes,” Jean said, without missing a beat. “I will be fine.”

Jeremy nodded. So maybe most of his injuries were just superficial, if he’d be ready for summer practices. That was a small relief. Bruises and cuts weren't fun, but they were easy to heal from. “Well, just let us know when you’re feeling up to traveling. Coach wants to buy your ticket ASAP, to keep costs down I guess. But, like, no pressure, obviously. Don’t feel like you need to rush yourself.”

“I want to rush,” Jean said, so insistent it almost surprised Jeremy. From the looks of it, Jean surprised himself, too. “I would like to get out of Palmetto as soon as possible. The sooner I can come out there, the better.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, blinking. “Right, okay.” He wished Coach had come. He didn’t know what to say to that. His natural instincts to people-please told him to offer to just take Jean back with him, but he knew, logistically, that wouldn’t work. “I’ll tell Coach. We’ll see what we can do,” he wound up saying. He was already pouring over the possibilities in his head, but he couldn’t promise anything with any surety, so he kept them to himself. They’d work something out.

“Is there anything else?” Jean asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Yes!” He said. “Definitely. The important part.” He grinned, and dug around in his pocket until he pulled out a folded piece of paper. He pulled a pen out of his other pocket, and pushed both across the table. “Your contract,” he said.

Jean stared at the paper for a moment. “You… brought my contract in your pocket,” he said, bemused.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to lose it,” Jeremy said.

“Right.”

“Feel free to look over it, and talk to us if there’s anything in there you don’t like.” Jeremy told him. “I don’t need it right away, you can just fax it over or something once it’s signed.”

Jean unfolded the paper, and, without even doing much more than skimming it, he scrawled his name across the lines at the bottom, where little sticky tabs indicated a necessary signature. As soon as he’d finished, he folded the paper again, placed the pen on top of it, and slid it back cross the table.

Jeremy hesitated, but he took the paper back and stuffed it into his pocket. He didn’t really need the pen, so on a whim he pushed it back to Jean. “Here, keep it,” he said.

Now it was Jean’s turn to hesitate, but eventually he picked up the pen, and laid it flat against the table and splaying his fingers out on top of it. There were cuts and bruises there, too, lining his fingers and the back of his hand.

“So, hey,” Jeremy said, looking up from Jean’s hand to meet his eyes again. He only just stopped himself from holding out his hand again. “You’re officially a Trojan now!” He was grinning again, but he couldn’t help it. “Welcome to the team.”

“Yes. Uh. Thank you,” Jean managed to say, uncertainty eating through his words as he averted his gaze to the floor.

 

-

 

Hours later, after Jeremy Knox had left and gone back to his hotel and his normal life, Jean was laying back in a bed that still felt alien to him even after spending nearly two months holed up in Abby's spare bedroom and staring at the ceiling. Jean didn’t know why, but he hadn’t realized until today that all the rooms in Abby’s house were painted with a different color. Everything was bright, and everything was colorful. The walls in the bedroom were a yellow-y sort of beige color, with accents the same golden color as the stupid red and gold pen Jeremy had given him earlier in the day.

He wished he could sleep, but he couldn’t stop this mind from running in circles. All he could think of was Jeremy grinning at him in the kitchen, saying, _You’re officially a Trojan now_.

He didn’t know how to cope with this new reality that was staring him dead in the face. Jean had always known he was going to die a Raven. He wasn’t cut out to be a Trojan. He had never even planned to live past 23. But what was really scary was that, even now, under all his pain and anxiety, no matter how sure he was that it was impossible, there was a part of him that desperately _wanted_  to make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so!!!! here we go!!!! i've wanted to write a soulmate au for ages god!!!!
> 
> i'm really gonna try and go easier on myself this time around. i was very self-deprecating and harsh on myself while i was writing my last Longe Fic and i think my writing suffered for it. so this time i'm trying this thing where i'm very nice to myself and cut myself all kinds of slack ! like i'm writing this whole thing for fun in my spare time so who cares if it's not perfect ! it made me happy to create and that's All that matters !!!!!!
> 
> tbh i'm p damn excited for this fic !! most of it is already written, although not edited, so i should have the next 6-7 chaps posted within the next couple weeks.
> 
> these first few chapters r a little exposition heavy, but we can't just jump right into all the sappy, love-lorn pining ! c'mon they gotta get to know each other first ppl !!!!
> 
> if u wanna pls feel free to hmu on tumblr [@trojean](http://trojean.tumblr.com/). thanks again for reading !


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obligatory lailvarez chap
> 
> love these lesbians

Jean woke up to sunlight streaming over his face. This had been his new normal for the past week, but he had yet to get used to it. Back in Abby’s house, he’d had a window, but it was north-facing and never got any direct sunlight. The window in his dorm in LA, however, was in the perfect spot to face the rising sun.

Jean had yet to decide how he felt about that. He woke with the sun each morning, and he was falling asleep earlier every night with the natural darkness, which was at least helping him fix the mess that he tried to pass off for a circadian rhythm. After years of the Raven’s 16-hour-days, and then sleeping about 20 hours per day at Abby’s, this new schedule was probably healthy. But it was also a shock to his system.

Jean was not used to so much sunlight.

He opened his eyes, and then immediately shut them again when light assaulted his corneas. He rolled over away from the window and blinked a few times to clear the spots from his vision.

The first day he’d gotten there, which happened to be a week ago today, he’d stepped out of the airport and stopped dead in his tracks for a solid thirty seconds. The feel of the California sun and the warmth on his skin seemed to momentarily short-circuit his brain. It had taken him a moment to remember Jeremy had picked him up from the airport and was watching him from a few feet away. Luckily, he was decent enough not to say anything about it, and when Jean had returned to himself they’d just gone on like nothing had happened.

Jean looked across the room in search of Jeremy now. He was trying (he really was) to stay calm. But he barely knew Jeremy, and he didn’t trust him yet. He didn’t think he was in a place to trust _anyone_ , but sharing a room with someone he’d only met a handful of times in his life so soon after... Well. _Everything_ , was a lot to handle. He had enough on his plate already, and Jeremy’s presence just made it that much harder to deal with.

But, it was preferable to the alternative. When Coach Rhemann had called to arrange his boarding situation, he’d offered Jean his own private dorm room. An athletic Exy scholarship with USC didn’t typically cover single rooms, but Rhemann had apparently pulled some strings and called in some favors and he'd said it was Jean’s if he wanted it. Jean did _not_ want it. Learning to live with Jeremy was a challenge, but learning to live on his own would be downright impossible right now. Everything in Jean’s life was upside-down and backwards. Riko was dead and Jean had the license to live an entire life, he’d gone from Evermore to sunny Los Angeles, and nothing was easy. So, as team captain, Jeremy had volunteered to room with him for the year.

Having a roommate meant he wouldn't have to be alone 24/7, and that would make his life infinitely easier in the long run, even if it had a steep adjustment period.

This morning, however, said roommate was nowhere in sight. Jean sat up in his bed, looking around the entire bedroom, but the covers on Jeremy’s bed had been unceremoniously pushed back and Jeremy himself was nowhere in sight. Jean frowned. In the entire week he’d been here, he’d woken up hours before Jeremy every morning. He’d learned a few things about Jeremy in his time here, and one of those things was that Jeremy would never wake up before 10:00 of his own volition.

At that point, he finally realized that the light was different than it normally was when he woke. It wasn’t the new light of sunrise, but a deep, mid-morning glow. He squinted at the digital clock that Jeremy kept on his dresser, and sure enough, it was 11:22 AM. Jean blinked. Not only had he slept in, he’d apparently slept through Jeremy getting up and going about his day. He suppressed a shiver; that would’ve been disastrous in the Nest with the Ravens.

But this wasn’t the Nest, and Jeremy Knox was definitely not a Raven.

Jean stretched and pushed the covers back, slipping silently out of his bed, ignoring the way his mostly-healing ribs ached as he moved. Even after all these weeks, the damage Riko had done that last night in the Nest still lingered. He probably didn’t need to be so quiet, but some habits died hard. He paused for a moment with his hand resting on the doorknob, listening for sounds out in the living room. He thought could hear muffled voices from the living room, and his heart jumped in spite of himself. He told himself he didn’t need to worry, but he worried anyways. More old habits.

He frowned, twisted the handle, and pulled the door open. He almost wished the hinges would squeak just to break the silence and give him a reason to stop being so wary, but this particular door was apparently the most annoyingly silent one in the place.

Jean paused in the hallway, just outside the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, and quickly combed his hands through his hair so he wouldn’t look like a complete disheveled mess. He belatedly realized he should’ve changed out of his pajamas, but he might wind up hanging back even more if he went back to change now. So, he didn’t.

There were three people scattered around the living room when Jean rounded the corner and tried not to be too obvious about stopping to inspect the situation. Jean spotted Jeremy first, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, laughing at something one of the two women sitting opposite him had said. One of them was sitting on the floor across from Jeremy, between the couch and the coffee table, leaning back against the legs of the other girl, who was the only person in the room actually using the furniture instead of sitting on the floor for whatever reason.

Jean had never met these women in person, but after a moment he recognized them from the Trojan lineup. One of them was Sara Alvarez, the Trojan’s starting backliner. Jean had spent a decent few hours of his life studying tapes of her playing. She was in his year in school, he thought. The other, the shorter of the two, was running her hands through the backliner’s hair. She was Laila Dermott, Jean thought. Kevin and Riko would sometimes talk about her; she was one of the best goalkeepers in the country. Definitely the best in her district.

But strangely enough, Exy wasn’t the first thought to surface in Jean’s mind when he saw the pair.

The first thing he took note of was something he’d never been able to spot on the court: the marks poking out of the two women’s clothes. Poking out of the bottom of Dermott’s shorts on her left thigh, and visible on Alvarez’s right hip between her shirt and her shorts, were two big, blotchy, _matching_ marks.

 _Soulmates_.

Jean had never seen marks so big; he was just seeing the very tips, like an iceberg. They were mottled a sort of blue-pink color, kind of like cotton candy, and very stark against the color of their brown skin.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Sara Alvarez snapped, “My eyes are up _here_ , dude.”

Almost jumping out of his skin, Jean’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, eyes going wide as he fumbled for something to say.

To his surprise, all she did was laugh. “It’s all good, I’m just fucking with you. They’re really big, right?”

Every muscle in Jean’s body had gone tense and rigid, and the abrupt change in mood was taking a while to register with him. He was definitely awake now. “Um,” he finally said, while his heart rate gradually slowed back to normal. “Yes.”

She grinned at him. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “That’s what happens when you’re a dumbass and you run face-first into your soulmate with no clothes on. Or,” she continued, "I guess it was more like tits-first."

Jean just stared at her. He had no idea what to say to _that_. It didn't help that he was still tensed for some kind of reaction from her that was starting to look as though it might not come.

“It’s a fun story,” she continued. Jean didn’t prompt her to tell it, but she apparently didn’t need him to. Jean was quickly figuring out that chattiness was just the common denominator amongst all the Trojans. Well, all save for him. But it wasn't like he’d ever really be a Trojan, anyway.

“Okay, so,” she began, spreading her hands out and knocking into one of Laila’s arms. “It was, like, our first day on the team. And we were showering after practice, and like, my hair was all up in my face, and Laila was about to shower so she didn’t have her contacts in, and neither one of us had any clue what was going on and we were both completely fucking naked,” she explained. “So I was just getting out of my shower, and Laila was heading to hers, and neither of us could see shit, so naturally we just smacked right into each other,” she concluded, and oddly enough, she was smiling.

“And that’s how she likes to break the ice with total strangers,” Dermott broke in, patting the top of her head and giving Jean some kind of _look_. “Sorry.”

Jean just nodded. This was a lot. He wondered if it was too late to change his mind and just go hide in the bedroom until they left.

He’d come out here because he didn’t just want to hide from the world, but now that he was actually standing there, with three Trojans’ eyes burning into him, he had no clue what to do next. He was just standing there awkwardly. In pajamas. With no earthly idea how to actually talk to normal human beings without being rude, depressing, or some combination of the two.

Jean used to be better at pretending to be a functioning human being. Back with the Ravens, he at least felt like he knew how to behave around people outside the team. But then he’d almost been killed, and then he’d had his whole world rearranged into something completely unfamiliar in a matter of weeks, and now everything felt about a billion times more difficult than before.

After what was probably an awkwardly long silence, Jean nodded. “I’ll just— get some coffee and. Leave you guys alone,” he said, turning for the counter and fumbling for the handle on the cupboard where they kept the mugs.

“Wait, no!” He heard Alvarez called after him.

Jean stopped dead in his tracks, blinking and turning back to them.

“I’ve been waiting for weeks to get to know the other half of my backline,” Alvarez said, her arms crossed. “You have to stay and talk to us!”

Jean stared at her. He didn’t see a way out of this, so he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. He took his time preparing his coffee before he went to join them, taking a seat on the floor a few feet away from the rest of them, crossing his legs.

“So,” Alvarez said, “you’re Jean Moreau, huh?”

“I am,” Jean said, trying his damndest not to bristle. “And you are Sara Alvarez and Laila Dermott.”

“Oh, he knows us,” she said, her eyes bright. “You can just call me Alvarez, though.”

“And I just go by Laila,” Laila said.

“Noted,” Jean said. Because he was terrible at making conversation and didn’t know what else there was to say now.

Alvarez snorted. Jeremy scooted a little closer to him, and Jean, oddly enough, didn’t tense up. Even when Jeremy nudged Jean’s foot with his own. “Good morning,” He said. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”

Jean realized he should probably respond to that somehow. He shook his head.

“Okay, good,” Jeremy said. “Uh. I know we can be kinda loud.”

“More like _she_ can be kinda loud,” Laila said, scrubbing her hand through Alvarez’s hair.

“It’s fine. Really,” Jean said, to all of them. This was stressful enough, he didn’t need them to fuss over him. He’d be happy if they just ignored him entirely.

 

-

 

In the end, they didn’t ignore him, but it wasn’t as much of a nightmare as Jean expected it to be. He thought no one seemed to mind that he was the quietest of the bunch. As it happened, Alvarez and Jeremy could talk enough for all four of them. Even Laila sometimes had trouble getting a word in.

At one point, when Jeremy and Alvarez had been debating about something meaningless like what spring movie had the most merit, Laila even cast him a sort of grin and half an eye-roll, like they were both in on something, a part of some private joke together. Like Jean wasn’t a total outsider here.

And perhaps the strangest part was how badly he wanted to believe that. He let himself get sucked into their world, and by the end of the day, he realized that even if he never could, he actually _wanted_ to belong there. That alone was enough to terrify Jean to his core. He thought he’d stamped out any instincts to _want_ years ago, when he realized that wanting and hoping were just setups for more hurt. He wasn’t in the business of causing himself any more than was absolutely necessary.

But three months away from Riko, one week living in Los Angeles, and a few hours spent with a trio of his new teammates had somehow overridden years of teaching himself to just play it as safe as possible.

Jean lay in bed that night, after everything, unable to sleep even though Jeremy had forgotten to turn the hall light off and he could comfortably see the room around him. No, tonight it was nothing but his treacherous thoughts keeping him up. Eventually the other shoe would drop. It wasn’t even a matter of if, but when. And if Jean indulged this it would only break him apart when it did. Keeping up like this could be dangerous, but Jean didn’t know if he’d be able to stomp out the little spark of hope that had ignited in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy had been sharing a room with Jean Moreau for more than a month now, and if he was being honest, he’d kind of hoped things would’ve gotten easier by now. He hated himself for having the thought; Kevin had given him an overview of the nightmare Jean had lived through in the Raven's Nest, and Jean himself had dropped hints and tidbits about it himself here and there. All together what Jeremy knew (which could only be a fraction of the truth) was enough to turn his stomach, and he knew it would take Jean more than a month to get anywhere near _better_. It was not in any capacity fair to expect him to just suddenly be okay.

But still. Having a roommate who he was pretty sure hated him half the time could be draining. Sometimes he thought he was getting somewhere with Jean; they’d had a couple fairly good talks, and Jeremy thought Jean might actually be starting to trust him.

But then the next day Jean would be as cold and distant as ever. And then there were… The bad days, the days when Jean seemed a breath away from breaking down completely. The days when he _couldn’t_ hold back a breakdown. Jeremy never knew what to do one those days. He never knew how to help in those situations, and he was pretty sure all his attempts just made things worse the vast majority of the time. The fact was, he barely knew Jean, and everything that helped Jeremy when he was feeling anxious seemed to just make Jean feel worse.

But there was someone who knew Jean, probably better than Jeremy ever would, who could potentially offer some insight. Jean was in the bedroom, napping with the door shut, but Jeremy went out in the hall to make his phone call anyway. He shut the front door to their dorm slowly and silently and padded out into the hallway.

The last time Jeremy had spoken to Kevin was that day outside Abby Winfield’s house back in March. It might be a little weird to just call out of the blue like this, but Jean was having such a lousy time here in LA Jeremy could suck it up and ask for some help.

Jeremy sat on the windowsill at the end of the hall and pressed his phone to his ear. He sat sideways, bringing one of his knees up to his chest and letting his other dangle off the windowsill and scuffing his heel against the carpeted floor as he turned to look out the window. It wasn’t a very exciting view; just the lawn out back of the dorms, then the road, and then some buildings. There weren’t even any people out there at this point in the year. It was still summer break for 95% of the school's population.

He was drawn back to the present when he heard Kevin’s voice in his ear.

“Jeremy?” Kevin said, surprise evident even through the phone. “Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Kevin. Yeah, everything’s…” At first, he tried for cheerful. Friendly. Casual. Then he rethought things, and abandoned that tactic entirely. “Well. No, honestly, not really.”

There was a sudden urgency is Kevin’s voice that Jeremy had never heard before when he said, “What’s wrong? Is Jean okay?”

Jeremy didn’t think Jean would be anywhere near okay anytime soon. The fact that Kevin jumped right to worrying for him probably spoke to that. “I don’t know, Kevin. He’s… Things are tough for him, and I— I don’t know how to help him.” It all just kind of came pouring out, and Jeremy’s free hand was knotted in his hair by the time he’d finished. “Kevin…” He swallowed. “How do I make things easier for him?”

Jeremy heard Kevin sigh on the other end of the line. He didn’t sound annoyed, just… tired. “Look,” he said. “You have to understand, Jean has just had everything he knew flipped on its axis. Everything is different for him now. It is going to be hard for him to adjust.”

“I know,” Jeremy said, “but there has to be _something_ I can do to make it at least a _little_ less hard for.” He didn’t realize how invested he’d gotten until now, when he realized how much he hated seeing Jean hurting. He was pretty sure Jean still hated him, but Jeremy definitely didn’t hate Jean. Jean was his friend, even if he wasn’t Jean’s.

Kevin was silent for a moment, and Jeremy gave him time to think. “Okay,” Kevin finally said, “there’s… some things you can do.”

Jeremy nodded, and then realized Kevin couldn’t actually see him, so he said, “anything.”

“The first thing you have to understand is that Jean has lived as a Raven for the past decade of his life. It’s all he knows. So Jean can’t be… alone. We Ravens don’t know _how_ to be. We operate on a pair-based system. We are never alone at Edgar Allen.”

Jeremy chewed on his bottom lip, sitting up straighter. “Kevin,” he said, “neither one of you are Ravens anymore.”

“Maybe not,” Kevin said evasively, “but what we learned in the Nest is not something you just snap out of. It will take time to break that conditioning.”

Jeremy sighed. “Fair enough,” he said, even though Kevin’s advice did not sit well with him. He thought about Jean turning down his own room (something half the team would’ve _killed_ for) and asking for a roommate. He really thought about the last month, and now that he did, he couldn’t remember a time Jean had left the dorm without Jeremy. Jeremy had just chalked it up to Jean being new to the area, but now he wondered if it was something else.

But Kevin tore him out of his reverie when he continued. “You should also know,” Kevin was saying, “that Jean will have a tendency to try and play through any injuries or illnesses. With the Ravens, he was never allowed to take any time off to heal, even for broken bones and concussions—"

“Wait, what the f—"

But Kevin interrupted Jeremy’s interruption. “He won’t know how to take care of himself. So you might need to make sure he does. If he’s hurt, tell him to get off the court. If he’s sick, make him stay home and recover.”

Jeremy swallowed back a spike of shock and outrage and just nodded. “Right, yeah.” He said, biting the inside of his cheek.

“And…” Kevin trailed off.

Jeremy gave him a moment, but finally he prompted, “And?”

“And you need to make sure he knows he’s his own person. That he can make his own choices.”

“Isn’t that a given?” Jeremy said.

“To you, maybe,” Kevin said. “But that’s… That is something Riko never allowed him to do.”

“Right,” Jeremy said, even though he suddenly felt dizzy. “Fuck, wait, Kevin.”

“Yes?”

Jeremy ran his free hand through his hair once, and then again. He got fidgety when he was nervous. “Am _I_ going to be a problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just said the captain of the last team Jean was on literally wouldn’t let him make his own choices. Is he gonna be comfortable around me? Should we switch rooms? Shouldn’t someone else be telling him to take time off and making sure he’s not alone? Should I even, like, be talking to him?”

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Kevin said. “I guess it might cause problems. I can’t be sure how he will respond to you.” Jeremy had to admit that stung a little. But it soothed him a bit when Kevin continued. “But he’s also going to need a lot of support, and I think you can really help him. I really think your team is where he needs to be.”

After a beat of silence, Jeremy said, “I really hope you were right.” 

“I do too,” Kevin said, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

-

 

There wasn’t much to say after that, so Jeremy and Kevin hung up and Jeremy went back into the room. He wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after talking to Kevin, but at least he had some advice from someone who actually knew Jean.

Jeremy shut the door quietly quietly behind him, just in case Jean was still asleep, and leaned back against it with his eyes closed.

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy started, blinking and pushing himself away from the door. He hadn’t even noticed Jean was up, but there he was, standing in the kitchen and staring right at Jeremy.

“Jean! Hey,” Jeremy said, trying for a smile.

“Is… everything alright?” Jean asked him tentatively.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said. Everything Kevin said was replaying itself in his head on a loop. “Yeah, everything’s golden.”

Jean looked skeptical, like he might argue, but he finally seemed to decide against it with a tiny shake of his head.

“What about you?” Jeremy asked. “Are you feeling better?” Jean had had a rough morning; his third bad day in a row. That was what had prompted Jeremy to call Kevin in the first place.

Jeremy saw Jean go tense even from where he was standing, but Jean managed a slight nod. “Yes,” he said, his voice as stiff as his spine.

Jeremy nodded. He thought about Kevin saying _it might cause problems_ and almost just let it drop then and there. But then he thought about Kevin telling him _he’s going to need a lot of support, and I think you can really help him_. Kevin had trusted Jeremy to do what was best for Jean, so Jeremy had to trust his instincts here to a certain extent, right? He could just dial down his natural pushiness by a couple degrees. Or probably closer to a couple hundred.

“Look, Jean,” Jeremy said, before he could second-guess and drown himself in doubt. “You know you can talk to me, right? Like, I know I’m not your favorite person, and you might actually hate me, and I can see why I’m probably not the person you want to talk to, but if you ever need to, you can, okay? Like, I’m always here for you if you need it.”

“Wait,” Jean said, holding up a hand. “I don’t hate you. What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Jeremy said, and now that Jean said it, he felt silly for assuming. Had Jean ever actually given a real sign that he disliked Jeremy? He’d never even been particularly rude to him. Sure, he’d been gruff, and distant, but when Jeremy gave it half a second of thought, that all seemed pretty normal for a new roommate situation, even with someone who wasn’t coming right off of ten years of unspeakable trauma. “Just a vibe I got, I guess.”

Jean frowned. “That was not the… _vibe_ I was intending to give you.”

“Oh? No?”

“No,” Jean said, shaking his head. “I… am not very good at,” he gestured vaguely with his hand. “At being friendly. But… Hatred was certainly not the intent.”

“Oh.” Jeremy said again, and this time when he smiled it was real. _Friendly_. That meant that Jean was trying to be his _friend_ , right? “Good. I mean, I’m glad. And I’m sure you’re fine at _friendly_ , I’m just.” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “It’s probably just the social anxiety. I kinda tend to think everyone hates me until they, well, until they do what you just did and explicitly say they don’t. And even then I still think most people hate me.”

Jean’s frown slid off his face, replaced by something like confusion. “I didn’t know,” he said.

“What?” Jeremy asked. “Oh, about the anxiety?”

Jean nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You’re _Jeremy Knox_. You’ve always seemed so…” Jean gestured with his hand, as if searching for the right word. “Perfect.”

Jeremy laughed, and not in a nice way. It was an ugly sort of snort, the kind Alvarez always teased him about. He regretted it right away because it made Jean’s frown come back in full force. “Perfect?” Jeremy said. “Jean, I am… the farthest from perfect any human being can possibly get," Jeremy told him. “I’m kind of a  _disaster_ , actually.”

Jean raised one of his eyebrows, but his frown faded. “You and I must have different definitions of the word ‘disaster.’”

“Okay, so what would you call a disaster?” Jeremy asked.

“Myself?” Jean suggested.

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, right,” he said. “If you put the two of us on a sliding scale with ‘disaster’ on one end and ‘perfect’ on the other, you would definitely be way closer to the _perfect_ side than I would.”

And then Jean surprised Jeremy by making a sound that came suspiciously close to a laugh, his expression lightening up considerably. (In retrospect, looking back on that moment, Jeremy really should’ve realized how fucked he was when the thought _I would do anything to make Jean laugh for real_ popped into his head unprompted.)

“I have to disagree,” Jean told him.

“Okay. You can do that. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree,” Jeremy suggested, smiling.

And then, Jeremy swore, Jean actually gave him a faint smile in return. It was barely there, like Jean was still trying to remember how smiling worked, but Jeremy _swore_  saw it.

As quickly as it came, it faded, replaced by the serious expression Jeremy was used to. “I am far from perfect, Jeremy,” Jean told him solemnly.

“Yeah, well,” Jeremy shrugged. “I am too.”

That was the end of that, but then, afterwards, something weird happened. Something good, but still unexpected. After that moment in the kitchen, things did get a little easier with Jean. Well, easier was the wrong word, but something changed. It was like finally be able to have just that one moment of real, genuine honesty between opened up a new line of communication between the two of them, and that was something. It felt like maybe Jean was finally starting to open up to Jeremy, even if it was in infinitesimal amounts.

Jeremy didn’t want Jean to become dependent on him, like the codependency Kevin had described with the Ravens, but that wasn’t the only option he had for being in Jean’s life. He could support him, and he could be Jean’s friend. It really seemed like Jean needed more of those in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three of jean's closest friends r laila alvarez and renee like jean is friends with so many lesbians !! 3/4 of his best friends on earth are lesbians !! and 2/4 are lesbian goalies dfgfdgfg

Jean had been in Southern California for too long. It couldn’t be below 60 outside, but he was cold enough he was actually  _shivering_. Still, uncomfortable as he was, Jean had never felt so relieved to be freezing cold. At least there was an overhang, so could avoid the rain that that was pouring down outside. And the cold concrete of the stadium wall against his back was helping to leech some of the tension and heat from his body.

The heat inside had been stifling. He had felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the oxygen got stuck somewhere in his throat and never made it all the way down into his lungs. He was still fighting to get his breathing under control, but at least the wind stinging his nose and cheeks was helping to bring him back to reality, helping him step away from the ledge of a full-blown panic attack. He felt bad for abandoning the fall banquet, but he was not here with Riko and the Ravens, so at least he wouldn’t be punished for daring to step away for a moment.

He just needed a moment.

Jean dropped his face into his hand, and dragged it upwards until he could dig his fingers into his hair, pushing his bangs back from his forehead and letting out a long breath. He wasn’t sure how long he should stay outside. Or how long he’d already been out there. Did it really matter?

He didn’t even know why the banquet had bothered him so much, but he’d been stressing nonstop all the way from California to Washington. It had only tipped from stress into genuine anxiety once he’d actually stepped into the UW stadium for the banquet itself, though.

He had to figure it was some kind of Pavlovian response, conditioned into him after how spectacularly awful last year’s banquets had been. He’d never really had fun at these things, but ever since Kevin fled the Nest and Josten started showing up and opening his idiot mouth any chance he got, apparently banquets had been transformed into an actual trigger for him. And that was just fucking  _excellent_.

At least he only had a few more of these to deal with until he was done with school. That didn’t help him get through tonight, but knowing he could count the number of banquets he had left on one hand was a small comfort. Jean straightened up, taking another long, slow breath, and looking out at the bus-filled parking lot to watch the rain fall.

He liked the way the light of the street lamps got all blurred and fuzzy in the rain. It looked almost ethereal.

Jean folded his arms across his chest. He hadn’t thought to grab a jacket in the midst of his mad panicked dash for the exit, and the thin button-down he was wearing did nothing to protect against the wind. He preferred being a bit chilly to the claustrophobic chaos the court inside had become, though. Okay, chaos might be the wrong word. In reality he thought it probably wasn’t all that chaotic. But to Jean and all the panic that filled up space inside his head, it had felt chaotic.

“So that’s where you scampered off to.”

Jean jumped so badly he smacked his arm against the wall behind him as he turned to stare at Laila. “ _Merde_ ,” he cursed, and then he said it again, in English. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but. Well. There was too much on his mind for him to control his brain-to-mouth filter as tightly as he usually did.

Laila raised her eyebrows. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jean shook his head. He was pretty sure his heart rate had doubled in under a second. “It’s—“ He shook his head. He couldn’t tell her it was okay. He was very transparently _not okay_ right now. “What are you doing out here?” He asked instead.

Laila leaned her shoulder against the wall and faced him. “Really?” She asked incredulously. “Looking for you. Duh.”

“What, nothing better to do?” Jean asked.

Laila completely ignored the barb. She hummed, giving Jean a quick once over. “You look cold,” she commented. “You wanna grab a jacket or something?”

Jean shook his head. “I’m alright,” he said, and then he looked at Laila, wearing just her sleeveless banquet dress. “What about you?”

Laila waved his concern away. “Please,” she said. “I’m from Michigan. This is like, a balmy spring afternoon for me.”

Jean shrugged. He wasn’t about to argue with her.

Laila arched one of her eyebrows at him. “So… Are you alright?” She asked. “I mean, you’ve been out here for. Well, presuming you’ve been _here_ the whole time, you’ve been out here for like an hour and a half.”

Jean blanched. “ _An hour and a half_?”

Laila nodded. “Yeah, Jeremy was kinda freaking out.” And then her eyes went wide, and she started patting down her pockets until she located and pulled out her phone. “Shit. That reminds me,” she starting typing something on her phone. “I should text him. Just let him know you’re okay.”

“He was freaking out?”

“Yeah. I mean, we were all kinda worried,” Laila told him, her expression more serious when she put her phone away and gave him her attention again. “You did just vanish off the face of the planet for an hour and a half.”

Jean winced, frowning. “I did not mean to worry anyone,” he said.

Jean could see Laila studying him in his peripheral vision. “Okay, c’mon. You feeling okay?” She asked him, after what as probably only a few seconds of silence. She sounded… gentler.

Jean exhaled slowly. “I just. Needed some fresh air,” he told her. “I was feeling a bit… crowded, in there.”

To his surprise, Laila let out a little huff of laughter. “I feel that,” she told him, nudging his side with her shoulder. “These things are so fucking stuffy sometimes I feel like I’m gonna suffocate. A court shouldn’t have that many people on it, y’know?”

Jean nodded, and when he replied, he was surprised with his own enthusiasm. “ _Yes_ ,” he agreed. “There are always too many bodies and not enough air. I needed a break.”

Laila hummed in agreement. “All good,” she said. “Just, maybe next time you need a break, let your friends know what’s up so we don’t all lose our collective shit.”

Jean didn’t mean to, but he wound up scrunching his brow together and saying, “My friends?”

“Yeah. Jeremy, or Sara, or me. Or anyone on the team, really. Even Coach will do in a pinch.”

Jean looked down at his feet, scuffing his toes against the concrete. Jean still didn’t know how he felt about the Trojans in their entirety, but Jean had been around them for three months now and he was pretty sure they all _hated_ him. At best, he’d assumed Jeremy was a cautious ally. And Laila and Alvarez hung around him enough he could pretty safely say they at least tolerated his presence, but the rest of them? The ones he hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know off the court? Yeah. He was almost positive they all were either on their way to hating him or already there. And honestly, after how he behaved around them, he didn’t blame them.

Jean Moreau had never really had friends before. He must have had some, back in Marseille, but that was too long ago for him to even remember. There had been Kevin, but that had just been… An uncomfortable arrangement built on necessity which had turned into… a whole mess of complicated feelings. He didn’t think any of those had actually been friendship, though. And then there was Renee, but even that relationship had just been built because of how desperately he needed someone. He thought they were building a friendship now that he was out of the Nest, but that was a hard thing to do long-distance when both of them had such busy schedules.

But Laila? And Alvarez? And Jeremy? These weren’t bonds he’d been forced to form to stay alive. These were people who, for some reason, wanted to be a part of Jean’s life. Jean would have to think about that, at a later point, when his system wasn’t already flooded with too much anxiety.

Apparently, pensive, drawn-out silence wasn’t the response Laila was angling for. She nudged Jean’s arm with her own elbow. “Should I go? Do you wanna be alone or something?”

Jean had thought he did, but now that Laila was here the thought of her leaving seemed unbearable. “No,” he said. “Unless you want to go back inside.”

“Nah,” Laila said, waving him off. “You’re right. It was getting too stuffy in there." She paused, and frowned. "Unless that’s your veiled attempt to tell me you’re freezing your ass off and you wanna head back in?”

Jean shook his head vehemently. “I prefer the cold to feeling trapped.” He told her.

Laila nodded. “Cool,” she said. “And honestly, you’re better company than a room full of strangers who low-key hate me because I’m better at Exy then them, anyway.”

“I would not be so sure of my Exy skills if I had let in nine goals against the Foxes in forty-five minutes,” Jean muttered.

Laila scoffed. “That was _one_ game,” she protested. “And it’s not my fault! The entire defense was falling apart! I’d like to see you hold a goal against _Kevin Day_ for an entire half.”

Jean turned to her and raised one of his eyebrows. He didn’t think he needed to say anything for her to get the point, and he was right.

Laila scoffed again, rolling her eyes at him. “Okay, whatever. You’ve been playing against him for years. You don’t count.”

“All I’m saying is I would not let in so many goals against such a mediocre opponent.”

“I guess we’ll see, right?” Laila said. “We’ll play ‘em again in the Spring.”

_Don’t remind me_ , Jean almost said, but kept his mouth shut. Instead he said, “I do not intend to lose to the Foxes.”

“I don’t think any human being in the history of sports has ever played a game with the _intention_ of losing,” Laila countered.

That started a laugh from Jean, which in turn startled Jean himself. Apparently Laila was just as surprised, based on the way her eyebrows inched upwards.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” Laila commented, after a moment’s silence stretched between the two of them.

“Probably not,” Jean agreed, with a semi-false air of levity. He could probably count the number of time he’d laughed sincerely over the past ten years on one hand.

“Okay, well, you do realize it’s now basically become my personal life-mission to make you laugh as often as possible,” Laila told him, like she was rising to a challenge. Which he supposed she was, even if it was a personal challenge she’d set for herself.

“Okay,” was all Jean had to say to that.

At that point, the door to the stadium, the one Jean had shoved himself through an hour-and-a-half previously, and the one Laila had presumably just came through, burst open again. Jean and Laila both instinctively turned towards the door, just in time to see Alvarez in her bright-red blazer stride out, with Jeremy hot on her heels, already bracing himself against the cold before the door even closed. When Jean caught his eye, Jeremy’s face brightened noticeably, which at first Jean thought he must be imagining it until he remembered Laila saying Jeremy had been worried when he hadn’t been able to find Jean.

“There you are!” Alvarez said, hurrying over to Jean and Laila and fitting herself against the wall at Laila’s side. Jeremy followed her, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the sweater he’d apparently dug out of his things, his shoulders hunched around his ears for warmth. It was oddly charming, Jean found himself thinking.

“Why is everyone hanging out outside?” Jeremy asked, looking between Jean and the girls.

“Fresh air, Knox,” Laila said, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Jeremy looked at her. “Right. Fresh, freezing cold air. Of course.”

Jean tipped his head to the side, biting back an amused smile. “No one’s forcing you to stay outside,” he commented. “Plenty of warmth back in the stadium.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Yeah, but, like. There’s really no point of going back inside when you guys are all out here.”

That struck Jean as odd; someone as sociable and friendly as Jeremy should fit right in at an event like this. He’d charm anyone within earshot instantly. But Jean supposed fitting in didn’t strictly mean it was enjoyable. Jean was the best backliner in college Exy but he’d drop this entire godforsaken sport in half a heartbeat if he had any kind of choice in the matter.

“Jeremy. You see us everyday of your life,” Jean said.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeremy said, grinning. “It’s great. I really like you. I mean,” his smile faded as suddenly as it had arrived. “I like spending time with you. All three of you. Y’know, you’re my friends. And it’s great,” Jeremy said. He must have been quite cold now because his cheeks were turning very pink.

At Jean’s side, Alvarez snorted and hid her face in her hands while Laila elbowed her.

“Shut up,” Jeremy said to her.

“I literally did not say a single word,” Alvarez responded. Laila elbowed her again, but this time Alvarez caught her arm and grabbed her hand, twisting her hand until she linked their fingers together.

Jean got the distinct idea that there was something here he was missing. For once, though, it didn’t seem like such a big deal, so he let it go. “Right,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Right!” Jeremy said, putting his smile back on, his cheeks going even pinker from what Jean now suspected was not entirely cold.

Jean still felt as though he was missing something, but he was feeling significantly calmer, so he just elected to change the subject. “We should go back in now,” Jean suggested.

“Really?” Jeremy said, undeniably hopeful.

Jean nodded. “We should get back to the team,” he said, “the banquet will be ending fairly soon.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jeremy said, every muscle in his body visibly relaxing as he turned and headed for the door. Jean had to bite back a smile as he went after him.

“Are you two coming?” He asked Laila and Alvarez, leaning against the open door to prop it open and facing them.

“In a minute,” Laila said, waving him ahead.

Jean nodded and followed Jeremy back inside, feeling infinitely better than he had been twenty minutes ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> five chapters in and the Pining™ i promised is finally about 2 begin. yeet !

Jeremy should have been asleep hours ago. He should be asleep right now, actually. He had practice in— he glanced at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen and winced internally— less than four hours.

But he couldn’t sleep yet; he had a paper due in his first class tomorrow morning, which started only 30 minutes after morning practice ended. So basically, he had to finish it tonight, or turn it in late. And if he knew himself, late really meant never. If he didn’t finish it tonight he never would.

Not for the first time, Jeremy inwardly cursed his own ability to procrastinate until the literal very last second.

Jeremy was sitting cross-legged in his bed, his back against the wall and his laptop perched in his lap. The light from its screen was harsh on his eyes in the dark room, but Jean had been asleep for hours now and Jeremy didn’t dare turn on any other lights in fear of waking him up. In fact, he was a little afraid just him staying up to work on homework would do it. Jean had always been a spectacularly light sleeper. But so far every time he glanced up at the bed across the room, Jean was still and peaceful.

He thought of moving out to the living room, but that felt like defeat. Like admiring he’d be up all night, rather than the lie he’d been telling himself for the past two hours that he was _almost done_ and _just needed 15 more minutes_.

He was almost finished up with the last paragraph, and then he could move onto the conclusion. And then he’d finally be done. He was so close. He might not have time to proofread, but when did he ever proof his assignments? Most of his papers were complete and total hot messes. Or, probably all of them, if he was being honest. His professors probably thought he was a total dumb jock.

Jeremy typed out the last sentence of his penultimate paragraph, and finally moved on to the conclusion. That's when he moved onto just stare at the document for a moment, remembering he was absolutely fucking terrible at writing conclusions. Still, a hot mess of a conclusion was better than nothing, so he started typing something up. He hadn’t even made it through the first word when movement on the other side of the room caught his attention.

He shut his laptop in case Jean was waking, and focused his attention on him. Jean looked as though he was just shifting in his sleep, maybe rolling over to get more comfortable. Jeremy relaxed. He was about to open his computer back up when Jean moved again. He jerked awake, and then a couple seconds later he sat up in his bed. Even from across the room Jeremy could tell he was breathing hard.

Jeremy stopped himself from crossing the room and checking up on him. “Hey,” he said, gently, “are you okay?”

Jean jerked again, and whipped his head around to face Jeremy. Jeremy instantly felt bad for startling him, but he already looked pretty spooked to begin with.

Jeremy gave Jean a minute to pull himself together before he tried again. “You okay?” He asked, keeping his voice as soft as he could. Jeremy’s eyes were starting to adjust to the sudden darkness, but he still couldn’t read Jean’s expression.

“I—“ Jean started, but cut himself off. “Jeremy?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy said, scooting over to the edge of the bed. “What’s up?”

“Jeremy,” Jean said again, his voice a little steadier.

Something clicked, and Jeremy nodded, even though Jean probably couldn’t see. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s just Jeremy.”

Jeremy heard Jean let out a slow breath. “Can— Will you turn on a light?”

Jeremy scooted over to the end of his bed and got up onto his knees and leaned over so he could fumble around until he found the switch for the little lamp he kept on his dresser. He finally found it, and after a moment a soft, yellow light radiated out into the room. Jeremy blinked to adjust his eyes again. He settled back down on his bed, and chanced a glance over at Jean. Jean slumped, leaning backwards on his hands and shutting his eyes while he took a moment to breathe.

“Bad dream?” Jeremy asked, tentatively.

Jean hummed the affirmative, but didn’t give much more of a response as he tried to pull himself together. Jeremy looked away, inspecting the lump of a discarded sweater on the floor near the end of his bed. He felt like he was intruding on something here, though he wasn’t quite sure what.

“Did I wake you?”

Jeremy turned back to Jean, and found Jean looking back at him. He seemed somewhat more relaxed, but his face was pale and his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hm? Oh, no,” Jeremy said. “I was up anyway.”

Jean nodded. “Good,” he said. His voice sounded less strained now, but he still sounded shaky. He swallowed, and shrugged. “Most of the time, I’m quiet. But I have been told that. Sometimes I… Sometimes I’m not.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, not quite sure what to make of that, but feeling a lump form somewhere in his throat anyway. He tried to clear it away. “Does… Does this happen a lot? I mean, bad dreams waking you up?”

Jean looked away, biting at his bottom lip, like he was considering what to say. “Less than it used to,” he finally said, so quiet Jeremy almost didn’t hear. “But still… most nights.”

Jeremy wanted to cross the room and hug him. But that would probably do more harm than good. “I— um. I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s not your fault,” Jean said, the corners of his mouth dipping downwards. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I’m not trying to apologize.” Jeremy shrugged. “I’m just _sorry_." He said. "Do you, um. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?”

Jean took a moment to consider that.  “Just… If you don’t mind, leaving the light on for a while. That would help. It’s…” He trailed off, and Jeremy waited silently to see if he’d offer anything else. “Sometimes, when it’s too dark in here, I— It gets harder for me to remember where I am. It sometimes feels like I am… back there.”

Jean didn’t need to clarify where he meant by ‘back there.’ Jeremy felt like his body temperature dropped by a decent few degrees. He thought of Jean telling him _most nights_ , and he almost wanted to cry. He did not like the idea of Jean waking up, alone and afraid in the dark and feeling like he was _back there_ , even if it was only for a moment or two. “‘Course,” Jeremy finally managed to say. “Whatever you need.”

Jean shifted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulled one of his legs up and rested his chin on his knee. “Sorry to keep you up.” It was strange to see Jean like this, so vulnerable and afraid and open, when he was the picture of confidence every day on the court, unflinching and fierce. 

Jeremy took a breath. “You’re not,” he said. “Seriously. I need to finish this paper before tomorrow, so I can't sleep till it's done.” He grabbed his laptop, pulling it back onto his lap. He didn’t open it up right away, not until Jean looked away, dropping his gaze down to floor-level.

Jeremy opened up his laptop, scooting back to lean against the wall and staring at his unfinished paper. He sighed and looked back up at Jean, getting a sense that he shouldn’t leave Jean alone with his thoughts right now.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, “You wanna help me finish this? I’m, like, so fucking bad at conlcusions, and I know you’re like scary smart and get hella good grades.”

Jean met his gaze, visible surprise written on his face. But Jeremy thought that was better than the dead, far-away look it had replaced. Jean opened his mouth, and Jeremy almost expected him to decline or question Jeremy’s motives or something. But instead he just said, “Okay?” And slid off his bed, slowly crossing the room to sit beside Jeremy. Jean sat close enough that their shoulders were touching, and leaned into Jeremy’s space to get a look at the computer screen.

Jeremy forced himself to focus on the task at hand. It was difficult, with Jean so close, but he wasn’t about to do anything stupid. So he just shifted the laptop so Jean could have easier access, allowing him to scroll through and skim the paper.

He paused, pointing at the screen. “You shouldn’t use contractions in a formal essay,” he commented, his finger hovering over where Jeremy had used ‘they’re’ instead of ‘they are.’ He was probably right; Jeremy’s professors had often given him notes that his tone was too informal on multiple previous papers, and removing contractions would help with that.

“Thanks,” Jeremy said, deleting the word and replacing it.

“And this—“ Jean pointed to a spot in the second-to-last paragraph. “I think you used a period instead of a comma here. Neither of these are complete sentences, but together they make sense.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “English isn’t even your first language, how are you _better_ at it than I am?” He asked, turning to Jean.

Jean frowned, shrugging. “Riko was... Very insistent that I be fluent in English.”

Okay. Time to drop it. Best not to force Jean to dwell on Riko his past. “Right,” he said, making the appropriate corrections. I felt like Jean was relaxing gradually, calming down with something to distract him.

Jeremy didn’t want to bring Jean’s attention back to— before, but he found he had to say something. “Hey,” he said, “you know, you can wake me up, if you need to,” he told Jean, glancing over at him and meeting his eyes. “Y’know, the next time this happens. Or, anytime. Even if it’s not a nightmare. Even if you just can’t sleep and need to talk. You can wake me anytime.” Jeremy checked for signs of anxiety, or a return of that dead look, but it didn’t come. So he continued. “Or if you need to turn the lights on,” Jeremy said. “I don’t mind. If you ever feel like you’re— back there. Or you can even just keep them on when you go to bed.”

Jean’s brows pinched together. “What about you?” He asked. “How will you sleep?”

Jeremy snorted. “Please,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I can sleep through anything. Seriously. I could sleep standing up in the middle of a rainstorm with someone shouting directly into my ear. The lamp isn’t gonna keep me up.”

Jean was quiet for a minute, searching Jeremy’s face. Finally, he let out a breath, and turned his attention back to the laptop screen. Jeremy might’ve been imagining it, but he thought he shifted just a bit closer to Jeremy. Not that Jeremy minded.

“Okay,” Jean said softly. And then, even softer, “thank you.”

“No problem,” Jeremy said, his voice just as gentle. “I mean it.”

Jean gave the smallest of nods, and Jeremy thought he saw a little color returning to his cheeks.

Jeremy went back to his paper, although he honestly couldn’t focus on it too well. Jean gave him a couple suggestions (which were honestly brilliant. Jeremy wished he could get Jean to help with all his homework) but after a while things petered off. Jeremy was utterly exhausted, but he tried his best to finish up this one last, stupid paragraph.

His fingers went dead-still when, after a couple minutes, Jean’s head dropped onto his shoulder. His entire body went rigid as a board, and he cast a quick glance down at Jean. His eyes were shut, his breathing had slowed. He was asleep. Jeremy could hardly believe it. He'd gone and fucking fallen asleep with his head on Jeremy’s shoulder.  _Shit_.

There was a moment where Jeremy just sat there, still as a statue, not really knowing what to do. What was the procedure when your roommate who you may or may not think is cute apparently felt safe enough to fall asleep on your shoulder after waking from a nightmare? Carefully, slowly, Jeremy shifted into a position that he hoped would be more comfortable without waking Jean.

Jeremy had maybe two more sentences to type, but he suddenly couldn’t focus on schoolwork at all. He told himself it was because it was so late, but even he knew that was a lie. He couldn’t focus with Jean’s hair tickling his collarbone, his cheek pressed into Jeremy’s shoulder. He felt warm all over.

Gingerly, so as not to wake Jean, Jeremy shut his laptop and put it aside. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jean, pull him closer, lay down and sleep like that. Which was a new and completely unwelcome thought. Jean was just starting to trust him, this was the last turn Jeremy needed things to take.

Instead, as slowly as he could, he eased out from under Jean and lowered him down, letting him rest his head on Jeremy’s pillows. Jean shifted, and Jeremy held his breath, afraid he might wake up, but he just pulled his arms in closer to himself and turned his face deeper into the pillow. Jeremy bit back a smile before he slowly crawled off the bed.

He glanced across the room at Jean’s bed, but he couldn’t sleep there. That would feel like a violation of Jean’s boundaries. Instead he grabbed his second pillow off his bed, snagged a spare sheet from the closet to go sleep on the couch. On his way out of the room, he hesitated, and then did a double take to shut off his and Jean’s alarms. Jean might be a little annoyed about missing practice, but Jeremy figured he deserved to get more than three hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember when i posted chapter 1 and i said i had this fic like 99% completed? well it turns out i was LYING to you all !
> 
> no, actually i just found some opportunities for some pretty serious rewrites whilst i was editing ch.6, so i wound up redoing like 90% of this chapter and i'm in the process of rewriting a good portion of the rest of the fic ! which means i went from 99% complete to like 65% complete, so updates will be pretty sporadic and might take a while from here on out. still gotta work on finishing up the next few chaps. thanks 4 being patient !
> 
> and hey, if you're reading this fic in the Future, and all chapters have already been posted, well. good for u. ignore this and enjoy the rest of this fic with no waiting

Before coming to California, Jean had never celebrated Halloween before in his life. And, frankly, he hadn’t intended to start, but he seemed to be the only member of his team who didn’t go all-out for the holiday. They started talking about it as early as mid-September, but got really intense the week leading up to the 31st. Apparently Laila and Alvarez had even been planning their costumes months in advance. And they weren't the only ones.

Jean didn’t understand all the appeal, but whenever he tried to say as much, Laila called him a stick in the mud and a buzzkill, so Jean just left them to it. He had so much cynicism he’d learned from years as a Raven bottled up inside of him, so he figured Laila probably had a point. No matter how childish he found it, he was trying to unlearn everything toxic and bitter and _painful_  the Ravens had taught him, and that included the notion that having fun or actually just _enjoying yourself_ at all was a waste of time.

Still, Jean wasn’t planning to do anything for the holiday. His teammates might love it, but Jean didn’t quite get it. To Jean, it felt like any other Wednesday in the fall.

An hour after returning to the dorm from practice, Jean was on the couch, digging through his school bag trying to find the book he’d been assigned to read for his Lit class. The problem was that it was a tiny paperback and Jean hadn’t really organized his bag since the beginning of the semester, so he was having a bit of trouble locating it in what had since become a bit of a mess. In the end he wound up pulling most of his belongings out oh his bag one by one, placing them around himself on the coffee table and the couch.

“Hey,” Jean heard Jeremy say, distracting Jean from his task.

Jean looked up to find Jeremy standing a few feet away, his hands fidgeting in front of him like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “Hey,” Jean returned.

Jeremy crossed the room over to him, sitting down on the arm of the couch, his feet on the cushion so he could face Jean. “What’re your plans for tonight?”

Jean shrugged one of his shoulders, setting his bag aside for the time being. “I have two chapters I need to finish for class tomorrow,” he said, “and if I have time I might try to watch one or two of UCLA’s old games.” They would be playing UCLA in two days, so the more Jean knew about how they played the better. They’d never made it to championships so he’d never bothered to look into them before now.

Jeremy stared at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language, even though Jean was positive he’d been speaking in English. “But,” he finally said, “it’s Halloween.”

“It’s Wednesday,” Jean countered. "It's a school night."

“Halloween takes precedence over school.” Jeremy argued.

“I don’t see why it should,” Jean said. “We have practice at six, and I have class immediately after.”

Jeremy frowned, and it looked dangerously close to a pout. Jean fought the unfamiliar urge to smile. Jeremy did this cute little thing with his nose whenever he pouted that Jean had discovered he quite enjoyed. It was annoying. “Yeah, but. It’s _Halloween_ ,” Jeremy said again, with emphasis.

Jean sighed. He still didn’t see the point of this holiday, but just sitting in the room and hiding away from the world his first holiday out of the Nest was seeming less and less appealing by the second. Especially since Jeremy wouldn’t be at USC with him next year, and this might be Jean’s only chance to spend it with him. “Even if I wanted to do something,” he finally said, “I have nowhere to go.”

And then Jeremy smiled. “So you don’t have any plans yet?”

Jean shook his head. He didn’t have any friends outside of the team, so it wasn’t like he even knew anyone who would invite him to do anything tonight, but he thought it was decent of Jeremy to pretend that wasn’t the case. To pretend Jean had any kind of functional social life outside the few times he’d gone out with Jeremy or the girls, and might actually have madep lans for the night. “No.”

“Okay, then you should totally hang out with me.”

“What are _you_ going to be doing?” Jean asked warily.

“Oh, man,” Jeremy said, sliding off the arm of the couch to sit with crossed legs across from Jean. Jean snatched his spiral notebook off the cushion at the last second before Jeremy accidentally sat on it and transferred it safely to the coffee table. “I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet. It’s so fun. A few of us, like, hang out in the stadium and watch cheesy-ass horror movies all night. We even have bowls of candy, and people show up in costume. It’s a tradition.”

Jean’s gaze turned wary. “Horror movies?” He asked. “I think I have seen enough horror in my real life.”

“No, okay, not horror movies,” Jeremy backtracked. “I’m not talking about anything that’s actually scary. We just watch those old obnoxiously cheesy horror movies that’s honestly more funny than anything,” he explained. “Like, I get scared watching Ghostbusters in the middle of the day and these movies don’t scare me.”

Jean frowned. “I’m not going to wear a costume,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” Jeremy said. “No one’s gonna force you to dress up. Even though everyone else will be,” he added innocently.

“I will not wear one,” Jean repeated resolutely, crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy said, backing off with a placating hand raised in the air. “Your choice.”

Jean nodded. “Who will be there?” He asked, shifting ever so slightly in his seat. He was pretty sure half the team still hated him for the way he behaved on the court, and the iciness he still showed to the ones he hadn’t learned to trust yet off of it.

“Well, me,” Jeremy started. “Hopefully you. Laila and Alvarez’ll be there, and usually Ryan, Jesse, Kate, and a few other strikers, and there’s a few people who said they might come, like Dev and Toby and Jason and Drew and Elena. Not too many, but enough that we can’t really hang out in anyone’s dorm without it getting hella cramped.”

Jean went over that guest list in his head. Toby usually ignored his existence entirely, and Ryan might not be happy to see him since most of their interactions involved Jean harshly critiquing his ability to play, and he was fairly certain Jason and Drew were both vaguely afraid of him. Kate and her girlfriend were friends with Alvarez and Laila, so he might have some allies there, but he wasn’t sure how the rest of them would react to his sudden arrival at their event.

“Are you sure I will be welcome?” Jean asked.

The look Jeremy sent him said that was the last thing he’d expected Jean to ask. “What? Of course. Jean, why wouldn’t you be?”

Jean raised one of his eyebrows. “I’m not the most friendly person on his team,” he reasoned. “I assume a good deal of the people you just mentioned would rather not have to spend any more time with me than is required of them.”

That seemed to leave Jeremy even more stunned than before. It took him a moment of floundering before he managed to form any actual words. “Do you really believe that?” He asked.

“It’s not a matter of believing,” Jean said. “It’s just the facts.”

“Hardly,” Jeremy said. “Jean. You're _fine_. No one expects you to be all sunshine and sparkles all the time.”

“Right, that’s you,” Jean said.

Jeremy blinked, then barked out a laugh. “I— Yeah, I’m the sunshine and sparkles guy. Fair," he nodded. "But that’s not the point! The point is. Okay. Jean. Everyone wants you there. I promise. If some of the people on the team seems like cold around you, it’s just cause they haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

“I’m not sure they want to know me,” Jean told him.

“I’m positive they do,” Jeremy countered. “And even if for some reason some of them don’t, they can suck it because I think it would be really cool if you were there so that automatically means you’re welcome.”

Jean bit at the inside of his cheek. He still felt apprehensive, but knowing Jeremy wanted him to be there that badly made it almost impossible to turn him down. Jeremy hadn’t decided he was sick of Jean yet, and until he did, Jean wanted to be be around him as much as possible. It was strange. Jean had never craved someone’s company before. He was used to pushing people away, not trying to draw them closer. But with Jeremy it was different; Jeremy was practically magnetic.

“Okay,” Jean finally said. “I’ll come with you.”

Like someone had flipped a switch in Jeremy’s head, Jeremy beamed at him, his face fighting up. “Yes!” He jumped to his feet, practically bouncing on his toes. Jean was almost startled by his enthusiasm. “Okay. Perfect. Awesome. I have to go now to help set up, but we start at seven, so be there then. Actually,” Jeremy stuck his hands in his pockets and rooted through them until he located his car keys. “Here,” he said, handing them over to Jean. “Just take my car over later. I can walk or catch a ride with Alvarez or something.”

Jean hesitantly took the keys. “Okay,” he said, slowly. He’d driven Jeremy’s car before, but Jeremy had always been with him. Until now Jean hadn't realized how much Jeremy must trust him. Jean wasn't used to trust, but it flowed so freely around this team.

He stuck Jeremy’s keys into his own pocket, and Jeremy didn’t seem to notice Jean’s strange reaction. “Great,” Jeremy said, flashing him one last smile before he walked out the door, leaving Jean to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into.

 

-

 

Jean somehow wound up driving Laila, Kate, and Kate's girlfriend Ellie to the stadium in Jeremy’s car when it came time to head over there. They were all very loud an enthusiastic the entire way over, Kate carrying a large bag of candy she’d apparently bought at the store earlier that day. Although, with the way the other three were eating out of it, Jean figured there wouldn’t be anything left by the time they arrived at the stadium.

Laila tried to offer Jean a Kitkat, but he turned it down on the grounds that he was driving. He didn’t have the time or energy to explain that he just… didn’t much care for candy. Every time he tried to eat it just tasted like a cavity in a wrapper. Luckily, all Laila did was shrug and eat the chocolate herself as Jean finally pulled into the stadium’s parking lot.

“Are we even allowed to do this here?” Jean asked, pulling into a parking space a few spots down from the team door.

“Who knows,” Kate answered, popping her door open as soon as the car stopped. “We just never ask, so Coach can’t tell us no.”

“I mean, Coach definitely knows we do it,” Laila said, glancing back to the other two in the backseat. “He’d shut it down if he had a problem.”

“I dunno,” Ellie argued. “I think if he knew he would’ve yelled at us about it by now.”

“Please,” Laila said. “We’re not subtle. Coach knows when a bigass group of college kids break into his stadium.”

“We’re hardly breaking in,” Kate said. “We have keys.”

“ _Jeremy_ has keys,” Laila corrected. “The rest of us are breaking and entering.”

Jean got out of the car.

The other three were still talking when they got out, but Jean tuned them out and made sure Jeremy’s car was locked up. It was older, so it didn’t have a fob, and Jean had to manually lock the doors. He used that as an excuse to drop out of the conversation and let the girls go on ahead of him. To his surprise, though, when Jean started for the building he found that Laila had hung back by the hood of the car to wait for him, but she let him be sullen and silent until they reached the door.

Jean felt strange using the stadium for anything besides Exy. Even though he’d _lived_ in a stadium for 10 years, he was unable to separate what had passed for a life in the Nest from Exy itself, so he still felt comfortable saying he’d never been inside a stadium for anything besides Exy. It was… strange. As he stepped through the door, there was a sense of wrongness that Jean desperately hoped would go away as the night progressed. The _last_ thing he needed was a panic attack.

Luckily, Jean got his wish. The feeling faded almost immediately as Jean entered the team room. He stopped so abruptly Laila accidentally ran into his arm with her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jean and Laila both said at the same time, and Laila waved him off with a huff of laughter.

Jean didn’t have much more attention to spare her, because the team room looked completely different than it had hours before when Jean had been here for practice, and it was hard not to stare. Jean had seen some decorations around town these past few weeks, even some popping up around the campus, but it looked as though Halloween had thrown up inside of the stadium.

Everything was very orange. Jean almost felt like he’d stepped into the Foxhole Court instead of the Trojans', but there was also a fair amount of purple and black here and there to break up the allusion. Pumpkins and spiders seemed to be a popular theme. Some of the couches had been pushed close together and pushed closer to the TV on the far wall, and some blankets and pillows had been spread out between them.

Jean looked around and spotted Laila where she and Kate were dumping the bag of candy out into a big purple bowl. He joined her and crossed his arms. “Is it like this every year?” He asked.

“Yep,” Laila confirmed, throwing Jean one of her smirks.

Jean opened his mouth to say something else, but then, from the direction of the court, he heard voices. A second later, Jeremy, Alvarez, and Ryan appeared from the hallway, mid-conversation, Jeremy laughing at something one of the others had said. That was something else Jean had grown quite fond of: Jeremy's laugh.

But Jean shoved that thought aside when Jeremy spotted him, totally catching Jean staring. “Hey,” Jeremy said, beaming. “You guys are here!”

Alvarez made a beeline for Laila, Alvarez kissing Laila on her nose, each cheek, and finally her lips, even though they'd seen each other just hours earlier. Jeremy followed her over, side-stepping the couple and hopping up to sit on the back of the couch where he was facing Jean. After that Jean was a little embarrassed to admit he stopped paying attention to the rest of the people in the room. Jean knew it was counter-productive to keep comparing this life to his old one, but it was some kind of progress that he wasn't hyper-aware of each movement of every single person in the room. He was safe here.

Jean searched for something to say, and eventually landed on, “Weren’t you going to wear a costume?” When he noticed that Jeremy was still wearing what he’d left the dorm in earlier, save for the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes anymore, and instead just had on long socks with a pumpkin pattern on them.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said, shrugging. “I’m doing this group thing with some of the other strikers. Jesse’s bringing them when he shows up.”

It turned out, the ‘group thing’ Jeremy was talking about was a duffel bag full of bed sheets that Jeremy, Jesse, Ryan, Kate, and Ellie all draped and tied around themselves in makeshift togas. Jean thought it was absolutely ridiculous, and it was also incredibly maddening that he kept trying to find covert ways to get a look at Jeremy’s arms.

In the end he was actually relieved when they finally got the television set up and the first movie started playing so he had something else to stare at. Jean squashed himself onto one of the couches beside Laila and Alvarez. (Who were dressed as a pair of characters who were apparently a couple from some popular movie that Jean had never seen.)

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, depending on how one chose to look at the situation, Jeremy planted himself in a chair directly on Jean’s other side, effectively blowing his hope of a distraction.

He was almost relieved when Ryan perched himself on the arm of Jeremy’s chair a few minutes into the movie. _Almost_ , because in spite of himself, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his view had been obscured.

Out of everything that had happened tonight, these useless thoughts Jean couldn’t seem to banish were the most absurd. He had to stop this. Jean willed himself to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t an easy task. Jean managed to make it through the first movie. He even managed to catch a few snippets of it. But by the time the team selected another one to watch, he’d thoroughly checked out of the entire evening.

Ryan kept whispering back and forth with Jeremy, which would’ve been enough of a distraction as it was, but he kept making Jeremy laugh, and Jeremy kept touching his arm, and for some reason all of that was making Jean's throat go dry.

Jean had made Jeremy laugh a handful of times, mostly form surprise, and never like he was laughing now. He sounded very… carefree, and Jean knew that being around him Jeremy could never be carefree. Jean needed everyone to be care _ful_ with him, or he risked a full-blown break down.

And just like that, Jean found that himself unable to sit still and deal with his ugly thoughts any longer.

Jean tapped Laila on the shoulder with two fingers. As soon as he had her attention, he said, “I am going outside,” before he stood and left as quickly as he could.

He made a beeline for the door, and pushed it open and out of the stadium. Despite it being almost 11:00 and several weeks into autumn, it was warmer outside than it was inside. Now that he was alone, Jean pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up on his arms and took a long, slow breath.

There was a small strip of grass between the stadium and the curb, and that was where Jean chose to sit. He leaned back on his hands, letting his head fall backwards. Even if he wasn’t in the heart of Los Angeles, where it was too bright to see the sky properly, tonight an overcast sky obscured the view entirely. Jean didn’t mind, though; he hadn’t come out here to stargaze, he just needed a moment away from... everyone.

Jean slumped back in the grass, folding his hands under his head and closing his eyes. He wasn’t sure if the air in the middle of a city as massive and consistently gridlocked as LA could ever be qualified as ‘fresh,’ but the gentle breeze that Jean felt on his cheeks was definitely refreshing.

When he forced his mind to clear, he felt… almost relaxed, and that was not something Jean was particularly used to feeling.

“Jean?”

Jean’s eyes blinked open, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. The front door of the stadium that Jean had just come out of was propped open, light spilling out on the grass, and Jeremy was poking his head out.

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy spotted him, and smiled. “Hey! There you are,” he said.

“Here I am,” Jean confirmed, watching as Jeremy came over to join him on the lawn.

Jeremy hesitated a moment. “Can I sit? Or do you wanna be alone?”

Jean gestured to the grass, and Jeremy sat down a few feet from him, crossing his legs and tucking his feet up under his thighs. Jean sat up himself, looking intently at Jeremy. “You’re missing your own party,” Jean commented, bemused.

Jeremy shrugged, pulling a few blades of grass up with his left hand and letting them fall back to the earth absently. “You looked kinda spooked when you bailed,” Jeremy said, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Jean let a moment of silence stretch out between them before blandly telling Jeremy, “I’m okay.”

Jeremy nodded. “Okay,” he said.

“You can go back in, if you’d like to,” Jean said. The effort it took him to sound casual was practically Herculean. But he couldn’t selfishly ask Jeremy to stay out here with him when he’d probably much rather be back inside with Ryan. Jean's jealousy was his own problem to deal with.

“Actually, what I’d like to do is stay out here with you, if that’s okay?” Jeremy said.

Another stretch of silence passed. Slowly, Jean nodded. “That’s okay,” he said. And now he had to put all his effort into smothering the little spike of pride that shot through him.

Jeremy flashed him another smile, one of those small, soft ones that Jean was trying desperately not to fall for. “Awesome,” he said. “So. What’s the verdict so far?”

“Verdict?” Jean asked. “On what?”

“Halloween,” Jeremy answered.

Jean looked down at the ground, running his hand over the grass. He shrugged passively.

“You can tell me if you’re having a shitty time,” Jeremy said. “It’s not gonna hurt my feelings if you think this whole party-thing is totally lame.”

Jean looked back up at Jeremy, eyebrows raised. “I’m not,” he said, not realizing he meant it until he said it. Sure, he’d been in a pretty sullen mood for the last hour or so, but… The day had not been a total bust.

“Really?” Jeremy said, looking almost hopeful. “Um," he cleared his throat. "I was worried, when you left, that you were, like—“ Jeremy waved his hand through the air vaguely. Jean remembered the last time he’d bolted form a stadium in the middle of an event, back in Washington at the Fall banquet.

“No, that’s not it. I’m not—“ Jean frowned, stopping in his tracks.

What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t exactly admit he’d full-out fled the room because he was jealous that Jeremy was flirting with another boy. (Or that another boy was flirting with Jeremy. Or they were flirting with each other. Jean wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if it _had_ been flirting.) He could hardly admit that to _himself_. If he actually admitted he was jealous, he had to admit that he felt something— _wanted_ something— with Jeremy besides friendship.

Jean gave his head a quick, stiff shake. Luckily he had another excuse for the way he’d been acting, one that was technically true. “I have spent enough time in stadiums in my life,” he supplied, “sometimes I just like to remind myself that is not all there is anymore.”

Jeremy went completely still, save for his eyes, which went wide as a full moon. “Oh my god,” he said, and then he flopped over backwards onto the grass, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, fuck, Jean, I didn’t even think about that! Oh my _god_ ,” he groaned. “Shit! I’m really sorry, I wasn’t _thinking_ —“

“Jeremy,” Jean said, cutting off his spiral before it got too far out of hand. Jeremy fell silent instantly. Jean cursed himself for not being able to think of a better cover. There had to be some middle ground between exploiting his own trauma and admitting he was too petty to even see Jeremy get friendly with someone else. “Everything is fine. I would not have agreed to come if I didn’t want to.”

Jeremy peeked out at Jean through his fingers. “Really?” He asked.

“Really,” Jean confirmed. “I’m okay. I just wanted some fresh air.”

Jeremy let his hands fall back to his sides, and used them to push himself back up. Jean looked down at the grass before Jeremy could meet his eyes for fear that he wouldn’t be able to look away again.

“What about you?” Jean finally thought to ask. Jeremy spent so much time and energy worrying about Jean, and Jean barely ever managed to return the favor. Maybe going to therapy three times a week was finally starting to pay off.

“Huh?” Jeremy said. “ _What about_ what about me?”

“Are you… having a nice night?”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, huffing out a cute little laugh. “Yeah. Sure. It’s been pretty nice.”

Jean finally risked looking at Jeremy, frowning. “That did not sound very sincere,” he told him.

“No, really,” Jeremy said, “I’m having a good time. I love Halloween. I just. Uh. I’ve already seen most of the movies we’re watching tonight so it’s, just, like, a little boring.”

Jean didn’t think Jeremy had seemed very bored back inside. Jean got the feeling that Jeremy was being cagey about something, but Jean couldn’t quite figure out what. So he just ignored it and took Jeremy at face value.

“I can’t imagine _this_ is any more stimulating,” Jean told him, gesturing at the lawn around them.

“Jean, shush.” Jeremy said. “You’re fun to talk to.”

Jean opened his mouth to say something, but in the few seconds he took to consider what he could possibly say to that, he lost his chance entirely, because the automated sprinklers on the lawn chose that exact moment to go off, and Jean and Jeremy had apparently chosen to sit directly in their radius.

Jeremy yelped as water hit him, scrambling to his feet. “ _Shit_ fuck!” He cried.

There was a moment where Jean just sat there, shocked, as water pelted him and soaked his clothes, until finally, his mind seemed to catch up with the rest of the world. Jean blinked, sucked in a breath, and unfroze at long last. He jumped to his feet, he was already fairly soaked. “Shit,” he agreed.

Jean felt Jeremy snag his fingers into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and then a second later Jeremy was pulling him back to the relative safety of the dry sidewalk. “Fuck,” Jeremy said, once they were out of the sprinkler’s reach, and then, to Jean’s surprise, he bent over, hands on his knees, and laughed. “Sorry,” he said, like it was his fault they’d just been assaulted with water. “Forgot about that. Must be on a timer or something.”

Jean pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking it’s functionality. Apparently he hadn’t been under the spray long enough for the water to penetrate into the pocket of his jeans, because it looked dry. “Not your fault,” he told Jeremy as he did so. Jean was the one who’d had to escape the stadium. Coach Rhemann was probably the one who set the schedule for the sprinklers. None of this came back to Jeremy.

“I know, I know,” Jeremy assured him, still grinning as he pushed his damp hair out of his face. “Still. Is your phone alive?”

Jean nodded. “It’s fine,” he said.

“Good.” Jeremy shook ran his hands over his costume, and then pulled them away and to shake the water off of them. “Shit,” he repeated. “Uh. I guess we should go home and change, right?”

Jean gave Jeremy a look .“You have clothes here. You didn’t arrive in— that.” Jean said, gesturing to Jeremy’s soaking costume. Jean finally saw the merit in the thing. Jeremy now had his own fresh, dry clothes to change into right inside the stadium. Jean would have to drive back home in soggy jeans unless he wanted to wear his practice uniform for the rest of the night. “You don’t need to leave.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, and Jean could swear he looked a little crestfallen. “I mean. I don’t want to make you leave all by yourself.”

And Jean didn’t want to make Jeremy abandon his last Halloween with the team if he didn’t need to. But he also had to admit to himself he wanted Jeremy to come with him. Jean bit the inside of his lip. He saw Jeremy everyday. They shared a room. He shouldn’t be this desperate to spend time with him. Jean gave his head a minute shake. “I don’t need you to come with me,” he said.

Jeremy nodded. “If that’s what you want. Yeah. You can just take my car back again. Alvarez could drive me back to the dorm later.”

“Yes,” Jean said, now feeling a bit crestfallen himself. "I might get your seat wet."

“Don't worry about it,” Jeremy said, waving him off. “My keys are in my locker. Lemme just go get them for you before you freeze out here. Unless you wanna come in and say ‘bye to everyone.”

Jean shook his head. “I don’t want to track all this water in there,” he said. Even his shoes were sopping.

“Okay,” Jeremy said, and turned to go.

Jean watched Jeremy retreating for about as long as he could stand it. “Or,” he said, and Jeremy stopped, turning back around.

“Or?”

Jean might not have kept going, but Jeremy sounded… almost hopeful, so Jean allowed himself to indulge for just a second that maybe he wouldn’t be asking Jeremy to sacrifice anything. “You could come with me, if that’s what you want to do,” he managed to say around the cotton that had suddenly lodged itself behind his tongue. “We could. Watch a movie you have not seen before.”

For what was probably only a second or two, but what felt like much longer to Jean, Jeremy just looked at him. But finally, his face broke out into a smile which Jean was sure would be warm enough to evaporate all the water off his clothes. “You know, that sounds really nice,” Jeremy said.

Jean had to admit, he hadn’t really expected Jeremy to agree. He hoped that much didn’t show on his face. “Okay,” he said again, because he couldn’t produce anything more intelligent.

Jeremy smiled. “Let me just pop in and say bye to everyone, okay? Or, are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Jean gave a nod. “I would rather wait out here.”

“Alright,” Jeremy told him. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Jean told him, and Jeremy smiled one more time before he went back into the stadium.

Jean found, as he watched the door close, that he was smiling, now, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fyi after jer and jean went home at the end the rest of the team is absolutely convinced they left together to go hook up. i felt that was important to say.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is uh cómo se dice....muy fucken Soft and Fluffy
> 
> jeremy knox is such a sweet sunshine disaster gay god i love him so much u guys

The winter holidays in Jeremy’s family home were always a bit chaotic. His mother was Catholic, his father was Jewish, and while neither one of them were at all strict about following their own religious traditions, they had always been very careful not to step all over the other’s.

It was sweet, and a little funny to watch them navigate this every year, but mostly it just made things confusing and turned the whole idea of ‘holidays’ into a big amorphous blob. Everyone bought each other gifts, and they hung lights, but there was never a tree or a menorah or any kind of important dates observed. Mostly it was all about eating a lot of good food, spending time with his family, and watching all the cheesy old Christmas movies that came on cable.

The whole ordeal probably looked pretty weird to an outside observer, but Jeremy loved it. Especially after spending half the year away from his family, coming home for the holidays always made his heart feel all warm and fuzzy in a way that was entirely unique. Only, this year, when winter break had started and Jeremy had made the drive up to his parents’ house in central California, it felt oddly like he was leaving something behind. It took some time after coming back to really figure out what it was that he’d left, though.

It was nearly 2:00 in the morning, two days before New Years, and Jeremy and his big sister, Michelle, were the only ones still awake. Michelle, at least, had a reason to have her schedule flipped upside down. She was spending the year studying abroad in Italy and was still jet lagged even a week after coming home. Jeremy, on the other hand, had managed to fuck his sleep schedule halfway to hell and back all on his own. It just happened whenever he had any kind of time off from classes.

With nothing else to do at this hour, the two of them had pulled out a couple old board games and were trying to kill some time playing Monopoly. As it turned out, Monopoly was a very difficult game to play in the middle of the night when the rest of your family was asleep so you couldn’t make any noise, and when both parties involved were _highly_ competitive. Neither Jeremy nor Michelle had said anything for the past 20-or-so minutes. It was just easier to get along that way.

That meant that when Jeremy’s phone went off, even the vibrations against the end table it was resting on were loud enough that they both startled, and Jeremy bumped into the board.

“Hey, what the fuck,” Michelle said, as pieces went skidding out of place all over the board.

Jeremy ignored her and grabbed his phone. His heart, which was already beating faster than average, kicked over when he saw a text from Jean.

“What is it?” Michelle asked, but Jeremy continued ignoring her.

_are you awake?_ Jean had messaged him.

“Is it your boyfriend?” Michelle prodded.

“He’s not—“ Jeremy stopped in his tracks, cheeks going very hot very fast. He amended what he’d been about to say, because even just saying _he’s not my boyfriend_ and implying he knew who his sister was talking about incriminated him too much. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he told her instead, voice carefully mild as he sent off a quick _Sure am!_  to Jean.

“Oh, right, okay, sorry,” Michelle amended. “Is it that broody French boy you’ve been mooning over every waking moment of your life since I got here?”

Jeremy scowled, but before he could blunder his way through any kind of denial, his phone went off in his hands, this time with an incoming phone call. Jeremy stared at the screen for about half a second before he accepted the call and pressed his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Rude,” Michelle said, so Jeremy turned away from her.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jean asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Jeremy said, even as Michelle nudged him in the thigh with her foot. Jeremy shoved her foot away and stood up, walking into the hallway for the rest of the call. He didn’t need his big sister saying something stupid Jean might overhear. “What’s up?”

There was a brief pause. “Do you use Skype?” Jean finally asked.

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to stop in his tracks. That was the last thing he’d ever expected to hear Jean say. “Uh, yeah, sometimes. I mean, I have an account, but I mostly just use it to talk to my mom when I’m out of town or something.”

“But… you have an account?” Jean asked him uncertainly.

“Yep,” Jeremy answered, and then something clicked and he finally caught on to why Jean might be asking him this. “Do you wanna Skype me or something?”

“If you have the time,” Jean said, tentatively. “Renee talks to Allison on this thing every night. She says I can use her account if I want to.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said, smiling into the phone. “Yeah, I’m free, that sounds good. Actually,” he paused, “Gimme a second?”

“Alright,” Jean said.

Jeremy poked his head back into the living room. “Hey,” he said to get his sister's attention, holding the phone away from his face. “I’m going to bed now,” he told her. “You win. I forfeit.”

He was about half of a second away from vanishing back into the hallway when Michelle stopped him. “Hey!” She said indignantly. “Am I just supposed to clean all this up myself?” She gestured at the game board and all the pieces scattered around her.

“I— Fuck,” Jeremy cursed under is breath. “No. Hang on. I’ll help.” He put the phone back to his ear and ducked back into the hallway. “Hey, Jean?” he said, “Uh. I have to take care of something really quick, but, like, text me I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“If you don’t have the time—"

“No,” Jeremy said, “I do. I just need a minute to help my sister with something, okay?”

Jean was silent for a moment. “Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay,” Jeremy said again, and when Jean said nothing else, he slowly pulled his phone from his ear and hung up, sticking it in the pocket of his sweatpants. He and Michelle spent the next five minutes silently wrangling game pieces and bits of fake money into the right places and making it all fit back inside the box again. When they finished up, Jeremy took the box to stick back into the hall closet on his way upstairs.

“Goodnight,” Michelle said.

“Night,” Jeremy told her, giving her a little wave before he headed up to his room. He closed his door silently behind him and pulled his laptop off his desk, taking it with him over to his bed and setting it open on his lap. He pulled out his phone, and was relieved to find a text from Jean with what must’ve been Renee’s Skype account name waiting for him.

Jeremy’s laptop was old and glitchy on it's best days and didn’t quite get along with Skype, but eventually he wrestled the application into actually functioning like it was meant to and calling Jean.

For the few seconds before Jean picked up, Jeremy felt a little spike of anxiety rising steadily within him. He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. What if he’d maybe a typo when he typed the username? What if Jean had fallen asleep? What if he changed his mind and didn’t want to talk to Jeremy at all and Jeremy was totally annoying him—

But then the screen changed, and there was Jean, backlit by unfamiliar walls of what must be Renee Walker’s guest bedroom, looking a little rough, but _there_. His hair was messy and there were bags under is eyes like he hadn’t slept enough, but Jeremy thought which made sense considering what time of night it was.

Jeremy hadn’t realized how much he’d really missed Jean until he saw his face pop up on the screen. Jeremy couldn’t have stopped the grin that was already spreading across his face if he'd wanted to. He hadn’t realized how heavy Jean’s absence had become until he felt it lift from his shoulders when he saw him again.

And that’s when he realized what had felt so off ever since coming home, why he’d felt like there was a piece missing from his life. It was only now that he was actually face-to-face with him again, even if it was through a computer screen and across hundreds of miles, that Jeremy realized how badly he’d missed Jean. Jeremy hadn’t noticed it happening, but over the course of the last several months, Jean had made himself a permanent home somewhere in Jeremy’s heart.

Jeremy didn’t want to think about what that might mean. It scared him, just a little, to realize how important Jean really was to him, and how improbable it was that Jean would ever feel the same. But Jeremy was already in deep, and there was no point in hiding it from himself.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, squashing the impulse to run his finger over the spot where Jean’s face had just appeared on the screen. Instead he just brushed some dust off the keyboard.

“Hi,” Jean said.

“Long time no see,” Jeremy said, still grinning practically from ear to ear.

Jean huffed, giving Jeremy a strange look, but there was something like fondness there underneath everything else. “I suppose?” He finally said.

Jeremy slid his laptop over his bed and laid down on his stomach, pulling the screen closer to himself. “So how’s your break going? Are you having a good time with Renee? Is there snow there? Is it cold?”

“Break has been… Nice,” Jean said apprehensively, like he was having a hard time accepting it himself. “This is the longest I’ve been off the court since without being injured since I was ten years old.”

Jeremy thought that by now Jean telling him things like that should stop making him feel like he'd been punched in the stomach. But it definitely hadn't. “Good,” he said.

“Good?” Jean repeated.

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded. “You deserve a break. You push yourself too hard.”

Jean frowned. “Your team have made me soft.”

Jeremy laughed as quietly as he could; sound carried in this house. “Good,” he repeated. “The world’s been too hard on you, it’s about _time_  you got a little soft.”

Jean made an inscrutable face at Jeremy, aided by the fact that the imagine chose that moment to glitch and pixellate. “—an interesting perspective,” Jean was saying when the connection unfroze and graciously decided to function again.

“And they’re not _my_ team,” Jeremy added for good measure. “You’re one of us, too, Jean. It’s _our_ team.”

“Right,” Jean said, slow and dubious.

“So, you never told me about the snow,” Jeremy prompted, figuring that was the best he’d get on that subject.

“Oh. Yes,” Jean said. “Yes, there is snow here. It is not much like California.”

Jeremy sighed wistfully. If he wasn't so horribly equipped to handle the cold he would be jealous. “Must be a nice change of pace.”

Jean shrugged. “Los Angeles has grown on me,” he admitted. “I... miss it.”

Jeremy’s pulse danced under his skin. “You say that now, but wait ‘till you get back and remember what it’s like to deal with eighty-degree weather in the middle of winter.”

Jean huffed in what might’ve been laughter, his expression softening.

Jeremy practically melted. “What time is it in North Dakota right now?” He asked.

“It is,” Jean glanced around, before returning his gaze to the computer. “Three-fifty-eight AM,” he answered.

“Jeez, Jean,” Jeremy said, exhaling swiftly, “you should get some rest.”

Jean scowled. “You are awake too,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s only _one_ -fifty-eight in California,” Jeremy said.

“Still,” Jean protested.

“Okay, okay, fair enough,” Jeremy relented, catching a feeling like Jean might not be in the mood to joke about this. “So what has you up at this hour?” He asked instead.

… Which was apparently the wrong thing to ask, because Jean’s brows punched together in the middle, and his frown deepened. He lifted one of his shoulders in the vaguest shrug Jeremy had ever seen. “I… was having trouble sleeping,” he finally told Jeremy.

“Oh,” Jeremy said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jean hummed in a vague sort of way; it might’ve been dismissal, could’ve been agreement, or it could’ve honestly been anything else. Jean could be very hard to read when he chose to be. He closed his eyes momentarily, reopening them with a huffed sigh. “You… You really calming me down. The last time this happened.”

That had obviously been tough for Jean to admit, so it stung a little when Jeremy wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “The last time…?” He asked gently.

“You know,” Jean said, a tinge uncomfortably, gesturing with his right hand. “The last time I woke up from a nightmare, and you were there.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said. “ _Oh!_ Yeah, right.” How could he forget? Everything that had happened that night, from the trust Jean had put in him, to Jean falling asleep with his head on Jeremy's shoulder, was practically scorched into Jeremy's memory. He swallowed. “Is that why you can’t sleep tonight? Bad dreams?”

Jean hummed again, this time in agreement. “Yes,” he told Jeremy, looking away at something offscreen.

“That sucks,” Jeremy said, because it felt a little weird to say ‘I’m sorry’ again. “Are you okay?”

Jean exhaled slowly, and finally looked back to Jeremy. “I’m…” He trailed off, as if searching for a response. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he just didn’t want to answer or if he wasn’t sure how to answer, but finally he said, “I’m _tired_.”

Jeremy got the feeling this was the type of _tired_ that went deeper than just a bit of missed sleep.

He wished he could close the distance between Jean and himself and give Jean a hug. But he wasn’t even sure if Jean would allow such a thing; he was still finicky about physical contact. So even if they were in the same room right now Jeremy would probably have to figure out a different way to be comforting. Eventually he just told Jean the truth. “I wish there was something I could do,” he said. “Was I— I mean, was I really any help that night?” He asked, wrinkling his nose. “All I did was bug you about my homework.”

“You were,” Jean said assuredly. “It helps to have a distraction.”

Jeremy brightened up. _That_ he could do. He’d always been good at distractions. “If you say so,” he said. He cast around for a change of topic. Small talk. Anything. He remembered Jean talking about Renee, and how she and her mom were both very religious. That meant they probably did Christmas up big, right? “How was your Christmas? Did you guys do anything special?”

That had apparently been the right question, because Jean talked for almost ten minutes, just describing his day. He’d skipped the church service Renee and Stephanie (her foster mother) had gone to, but he’d spent a good portion of the day after they got back helping them cook dinner. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile thinking about Jean and Renee cooking together. ‘Cooking’ in their dorm usually meant preparing mac ’n cheese or reheating leftovers or some kind of rice stir fry, so the idea of Jean helping prepare an entire holiday meal was… Fuck, it was really cute.

Jean even showed Jeremy the gift Renee had gotten him, which turned out to be a pair of blue socks with a pattern of little foxes sitting in boxes (like cats had a tendency to do) on them.

“They are absolutely ridiculous,” Jean said, with an eye roll that would’ve been absolutely convincing if Jean hadn’t been _wearing them_ at the time. He lamented that he hadn’t even thought to get anything for Renee. Jeremy tried to console him, but he wasn’t sure how well that actually worked. But Jean’s mood was gradually improving, though, so Jeremy counted it as a win.

“It was… a good day,” Jean told him in conclusion, his brow pinched together. He blinked. “What about you? How was your Christmas?”

Jeremy shrugged. He almost didn’t want to answer; he wanted Jean to keep talking forever. This was probably the most care-free he’d ever seen him. “My family doesn’t really do Christmas,” he said. “I think we mostly just celebrate getting time off from school.”

“Oh,” Jean said.

“But I’m definitely having fun doing that,” Jeremy said, smiling. “It’s always really great to come home. I always forget how much I miss everyone till I get to see them all again.”

“Everyone?” Jean asked.

“My whole family,” Jeremy elaborated. “My parents, my sisters, my brothers. It’s so weird. Normally I go home for Thanksgiving, but this year I haven’t seen any of them since, like. May.”

“I… didn’t realize you normally spent Thanksgiving break off campus,” Jean said.

“Uh. Yeah,” Jeremy smiled sheepishly. “I usually like to bail on school as often as possible.”

“Hm.” Jean nodded slightly, going silent after that. Jeremy wasn’t sure if Jean was judging him or if his exhaustion was just catching up with him. Maybe it was both? Or maybe Jeremy was just reading too much into it. Maybe he just didn’t have anything to say and Jeremy was over-thinking again.

“I—” Jean started but then he stopped himself. Jeremy had been about to try and kickstart the conversation, but he clamped his mouth shut when Jean opened his. Jean cleared his throat, and then yawned into the back of his hand. “Jeremy, I think I will try to sleep again now.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, feeling a little flicker of disappointment and immediately trying to squash it out; he could admit to himself that he would’ve liked to keep talking to Jean, but he couldn’t ask Jean to stay up all night just to indulge Jeremy. He was already missing sleep because of his nightmares, that would be unfair. “Okay. Good idea. Yeah. You should definitely get some rest.”

Jean furrowed his brow. “You should sleep, too,” he said.

“Hey, it’s not _that_ late over here,” Jeremy protested.

Jean leveled him with one of his glares, and even appearing at 13 inches tall on Jeremy’s tiny laptop screen didn’t stop it from having the same effect it would face-to-face.

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy relented. “Point taken. But,” he added. “If you can’t sleep, or if you have another bad dream, you can always call me.”

Jean nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said.

“Seriously,” Jeremy told him, “I mean it.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Jean repeated.

Jeremy beamed at him. “Good,” he said. There was a pause, like neither one of them really knew what the say, and neither one of them were overly eager to end the call. Finally, his cheeks going gradually red, Jeremy said, “well. Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Jean huffed. “I will try. Goodbye.” And then he finally hung up.

Jeremy let out a slow breath and shut his laptop, scooching back up into a sitting position. He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get a grip. He’d be seeing Jean again in a little over a week, and if he couldn’t reign himself and is feelings in he was going to fuck _something_ up. Jeremy _really_ hoped that the way he was feeling right now was just because they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and things had just kind of… built up, or something.

All Jeremy could do was that after they were back on campus and got back to talking everyday, things would go back to normal for Jeremy. But was this really _ab_ normal? Maybe he'd always felt like this, and he just hadn't noticed until he'd had to spend time away from Jean. Maybe he'd go back to school an even bigger mess.

He flopped back onto his pillows, and, because he hopeless and had a melted marshmallow for a heart, he grabbed his phone and sent Jean a text that just said: _Sweet dreams!! :)_ before he tossed it away again.

_Get a fucking grip_ , Jeremy thought. Even though his light was still on, and he didn’t usually sleep in hoodies, Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his palms into them. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would wake up, and things would go back to the way they had been. He would be able to think about Jean without feeling like his heart was trying to squirm its way up out of his throat.

Yeah. Jeremy was totally fucked.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i ask myself: is my writing hopelessly cheesy, and possibly tropy as all hell? 
> 
> and the answer is, of course: **probably Yes** ! and i love it ! 
> 
> life is so much more fun when u just do things that make u happy even if it's cheesy and cliché and kinda dumb. live ur best life folks. write utterly, wholly self indulgent fanfic ! 1000/10 Would recommend !!!!!!!

Jean had no idea how he’d gotten here. He meant that both in a broader sense, that he had no idea how he’d somehow become a Trojan backliner with all this life stretching out ahead of him, and in the very literal sense regarding where he was and what he was doing.

This is what happened:

Jean was fresh out of the shower after practice, dressed and sorting out his bag to get ready to leave when he heard a familiar voice at his side.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, “I know this is totally last minute, but, what are your plans for Spring Break?”

Jean shut his locker, turning to find Jeremy grinning at him, leaning against the locker beside Jean’s. He shrugged. He hadn’t thought about it; he still hadn’t fully gotten his head around the fact that he needed to make plans for breaks. That breaks were actually _breaks_ now. He didn’t need to stay at the stadium full-time; he could take time away like the rest of the country’s population of college kids. He'd only gone to Renee's for winter break back in December because she'd invited him. If she hadn't, he probably would've just stuck around the dorm until the beginning of the new semester. “Um,” he said, unsure how to tell Jeremy that right now it looked like he would just being staying where he was, trying to kill time until classes started again. “I am… not so sure.”

“So you don’t have plans yet?” Jeremy asked.

Jean shook his head.

“Perfect,” Jeremy said. “Do you wanna come camping with me and my family?”

“Camping?” Jean repeated. “With your family?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “There’s this really nice spot on the coast up in NorCal. It’s really pretty. We haven’t gone in forever, but my big sister’s gonna be back in the country for like a couple weeks so Mom wants to take us all.”

Jean was silent for probably a second too long. “And… you want me to come along?”

Jeremy nodded. “Mhmm. If you want to.”

“Your family wouldn’t mind?” Jean asked, a little bewildered. He wasn’t sure how he felt about intruding on a family gathering.

“Mind? Dude, they’ve been dying to meet you.”

Jean almost asked _why_ , but instead he just asked, “Really?”

Another nod. “Yep,” Jeremy said, smiling. “My mom has accused me of hiding you from her. She keeps asking to meet you.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jean said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jeremy said. “Guess I forgot to mention it.”

Jean nodded, taking a moment to consider. He pulled his bag slowly up onto his shoulder as he thought. “I’ve never been camping before,” he said. “I don’t have any of the, the supplies I might need.”

“No worries,” Jeremy said. “I’ve got you covered. The thing about having so many kids in one family is we tend to accumulate lots of extra crap.”

“I don’t know how to put up a tent. Or make a fire. Or... anything like that.”

“That’s okay,” Jeremy said. “My sister’s a lesbian, so she’s pro at all that shit.”

Jean huffed out an involuntary laugh at that. He wasn't sure why he seemed so eager to get himself uninvited, so he figured he should just say yes before Jeremy changed his mind and decided he didn't want Jean to come. “Okay,” he finally said. “Yes. Alright. I’ll go.”

Jeremy beamed, and the sun shone out from behind his face. “Awesome,” he said.

Jean nodded. A week with Jeremy wouldn’t be so bad, he figured, even if it would be spent in the woods.

 

-

 

A week later, break began, and Jean packed his bag and threw it into the back seat of Jeremy's little yellow sedan and the two of them headed out of Los Angeles.

Jean didn’t mean to, but he slept the entire six-hour car ride away. He wasn’t even sure how he managed it, but he figured it had something to do with the cumulative exhaustion that came from a week of midterm essays and exams and presentations and a game the night before. Almost immediately after Jeremy pulled out onto I-5, Jean rested his head against the passenger-side window, and the next thing he knew Jeremy was gently shaking him awake with a hand on his bicep.

Jean must’ve been having peaceful dreams, because when he woke, it wasn’t with a jolt, but instead like he was pulling himself up through the fog of his drowsiness. He blinked, glancing around, expecting to see the LA coastline or the highway, but instead he saw… trees. His head still felt blurry, and the unfamiliar landscape didn’t help. He felt his brows pinch together as he looked over to find Jeremy watching him.

Even just a few months ago, Jean wouldn’t have been able to do that; sleep in the car next to someone else, not even really knowing their destination. He never would’ve been able to do anything or go anywhere without knowing all the details, even with Jeremy. Without even really noticing it was happening, Jean had learned to trust Jeremy. Jean hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time. He wasn’t sure he knew how, but, to his surprise, he found that it came surprisingly easy this time around. Jean wasn’t sure if that was because of him or because of Jeremy. Either way, it was kind of nice.

“Where are we?” Jean asked.

“Somewhere in the redwoods,” Jeremy said, looking out the window. Jean blinked again. “I wanna say. Uh… Humboldt or Del Norte county. I never remember.”

“Oh,” Jean said, as his brain slowly caught up to reality. “So we are. We’re _here_?”

“Yep,” Jeremy hummed in confirmation.

“Oh,” Jean said again.

“Yeah, you were pretty much passed out the whole way up,” Jeremy told him. “I tried to wake you, once or twice, when I stopped at a couple rests stops. But you were pretty out of it so I figured I should just let you sleep.”

At that point Jean’s brain seemed to reacquaint itself with the rest of his body, and he realized every muscle he had in his body felt stiff. A consequence of spending hours in a car without moving, he supposed. “Oh,” he said again.

That made Jeremy smile, and bite down on his bottom lip like he was trying to stop himself from laughing. Jean wished he wouldn’t; he really enjoyed Jeremy’s laugh. He didn’t see why he would ever try to stop it.

Jean stretched out, and finally looked around to get a good look at this new environment. He was a bit disappointed he’d missed the drive. He’d discovered, in his time with the Trojans, that he really liked the scenery a long road trip up the California coast brought. But the view here was nice enough to make up for it.

Everything was very  _green_.

Jean had passed through this part of California on the bus on the way to games up in the more northern states in the Pacific district a few times, but he’d never seen these forests up close before. It was strange to think they were still in California. It felt like an entire different world from Los Angeles. It was… Peaceful.

They were pulled into a flat expanse of ground which, judging by the per-built fire pit and picnic benches, was a campsite. Jean had never been camping, but he could intuit that much. He could also intuit that the people surrounding another vehicle parked on the other wide of the campsite were Jeremy's family. At that point, Jeremy got out of the car, and Jean followed.

That was when Jean met the entirety of Jeremy’s family. He was used to being around large groups of people, but this was different. He’d never seen the way a family who actually cared for each other interacted, and for a moment he was stunned and stayed stock still where he was standing beside the passenger side door.

But this was Jeremy, and a whole herd of Knoxes, so he wasn’t able to isolate for long.

There were four kids all younger than Jeremy, and one older, all of whom shared a shocking resemblance to Jeremy. His parents were off getting the campsite set up, but Jean met them, too, before long. Jean felt like somewhat of an outsider here, amongst an entire family who were clearly very close. But he couldn’t manage it for long when everyone seemed to be going out of their way to be nice to him, and include him. It was still a bit uncomfortable, but Jeremy was there with him the whole time, so it wasn’t nearly as hard as Jean imagined.

 

-

 

That first afternoon was a whirlwind, trying to get everything set up, but eventually everything settled down and settled in and everything felt calmer. The hours passed, and afternoon gave way to evening, and finally night. The sun vanished behind the trees, and the sky went dark, leaving the dying fire in the pit as the only light source. Jean and Jeremy were the only ones left awake. Jean was sitting on one of the logs around what remained of the fire, and Jeremy was sitting across from him, poking at the embers that used to be burning logs with a long stick he'd had burnt marshmallows on an hour earlier.

Jean kept trying to look anywhere else but at Jeremy’s face, but he couldn’t seem to manage it for long. Even in the dark of the night sky, he was glowing, and not just because of the fire light.

Jeremy gave up on the fire, eventually, and then it really got dark. Only, it turned out, _dark_  out in the country had an entirely different meaning than _dark_ in the city. Dark in the city had the potential to feel truly suffocating. Sure, it might never be as bad as it was at Evermore, but it could still get bad enough to give Jean anxiety even on his best days. Dark out here was something else entirely.

Jeremy stood, and for a second Jean thought he was going to go to sleep, too, but instead he walked around the fire pit and came to sit beside Jean. “What do you think?” Jeremy asked quietly, nudging Jean with his elbow. It was also colder out here, but the team hoodies provided by USC were thick and cozy, so with the additional warmth of the fire his had been doing Jean fine all night.

Jean looked over, to find Jeremy looking back at him. There was something almost hopeful in his eyes. "This is... not so bad," Jean told him.

Jeremy’s answering grin lit up his face. “Yay,” he said. “I was a little worried when I asked you to come. I mean, ‘hey, let’s go out in the woods in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception for like a week’ kinda sounds crazy, right?”

Jean shrugged one of his shoulders. The right one; the left was too near to Jeremy, and he didn’t want to knock into him and somehow cause him to move away. “You needn’t have worried,” Jean told him. “I trust you.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked more serious now. “Really?”

Jean nodded, humming his confirmation.

Jeremy was silent for a moment, but then he flashed another smile. “Cool,” he said. “I’m glad.”

He knocked his shoulder lightly against Jean’s, and then just sort of stayed there, leaning against him. He was so close Jean could feel his body heat through all the layers they were wearing. Jean half-hoped he’d stay there all night. He had to remind himself more than once that it didn't mean anything; Jeremy was just like that with his friends. He was a physical person. He loved casual touches, and now that Jean was getting more comfortable with such things, he would be on the receiving end of them sometimes.

“You can go to sleep if you’re tired,” Jean said, “you don’t need to stay up with me.”

“I’m good,” Jeremy told him, even though his words ended in a yawn. “I wanna stay up. See the stars. They’re really nice out here.”

Jean nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And then, after another few minutes stretched by in silence, Jeremy said, “Jean Moreau.”

“Jeremy Knox,” Jean answered, a bit startled, unsure what else to say.

“Have I ever told you,” Jeremy mused, staring up at the sky. “That you deserve… Everything beautiful this world has to offer.”

Jean swallowed. “No,” he said, turning to meet and hold Jeremy’s gaze. He managed that for only a few seconds before he turned away again.“You have not told me such a thing.”

Jeremy hummed. “Well. I should’ve,” Jeremy said, “‘Cause it’s true. You do.”

Jean said, “Okay,” when he really wanted to say, _the world has already given me the most beautiful thing it could have to offer when it lead me to you._ But that was. Well. That was not something he could just admit out loud. Could he even say that to Jeremy? Did friends say things like that to each other, or would it instantly give away his real feelings? Jean didn’t know, so it was best to just stick with the option that lead to  _not_ making an ass of himself and keep his mouth shut. Frazzled, Jean stuffed his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

With the sun set, the world was now illuminated by something else. Something Jean was wholly unfamiliar with. Jean had seen stars before, but not like this. He’d lived in cities all his life; smog and dense lights and years underground meant his experience with stars was fairly limited.

Out here, hours away from civilization, surrounded by trees, it was like entering a different world. Jean felt a sort of ache in his chest, but it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, after some indeterminate time of comfortable silence stretched between them. Jean turned his head, meeting Jeremy’s eyes once more. “Can I ask you something?”

Jean nodded.

Jeremy chewed on his bottom lip, his brow furrowing. “I mean, it’s kind of personal. Okay. It's _really_ personal, probably. So, don’t feel like you have to answer. You totally don’t. It’s up to you.”

“I know,” Jean said. He was not in the business of sharing personal information he did not want to share. It was one of the few things he’d held onto in the Nest, one of the few ways he’d tried to remind himself that he was his own person with his own life.

Jeremy nodded. “Okay, so… When we first met, you said that— that you wouldn’t touch me. And I mean, I always figured that was because of— because of what can happen with skin-to-skin touches. So, that means. I mean, you’ve never— You don’t know who they are. You’ve never met them.”

“Them,” Jean said, slowly. He couldn’t quite make it a question; he had a pretty decent idea who Jeremy must be talking about.

“Yeah, y’know,” Jeremy waved one of his hands through the air. “Your person. Your soulmate.”

“Hm. Yes.  _Them_.” Jean said, trying not to let the distaste show on his face.

Jeremy gave him a moment, letting him decide if or what he wanted to share. And Jean took that moment. He’d never spoken outright about this subject before. He remembered, once, when they were fourteen and hidden away in Jean’s dorm room late one night, Kevin had asked him the same question. If Jean had met them yet. What he thought they’d be like. Jean hadn’t answered then. He wasn’t sure, at first, if he wanted to answer now. He’d buried the subject deep, deep down back in Evermore.

“No,” Jean finally said, the word slow and cold on his tongue. “No, I have not met them.”

Jeremy hummed, his expression turning thoughtful.

Before Jeremy could ask anything else, Jean decided to just offer up the information so he could just get this over with. “I do not believe they exist.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, thoughtfulness turning to confusion in a heartbeat.

“My soulmate. I’m fairly certain I don’t have one.” Jean’s tone was flatter than he’d intended. He couldn't help it; every word tasted bitter on his tongue.

Another moment of silence. “If you really believe that,” Jeremy began, his voice delicate. “Then why do you still not let people touch you? I mean— okay, that came out wrong. Obviously you don’t need to let people touch you, but—”

“I know what you meant, it’s fine,” Jean interrupted. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what to say, so he closed it again until he could make up his mind. It was true; outside of practice he tolerated a very selective level of physical contact. He only really allowed it from Jeremy and the girls, and Renee during the scant few face-to-face interactions they had. And maybe he could owe a part of that to his past, but Jeremy had a point. Part of the reason he was so picky about touch was because he feared what might happen if he were ever to see a mark appear on his skin. “Okay,” Jean relented. “Maybe I do have one. But—“ He cut himself off, thinking again.

“But?” Jeremy prompted.

Jean inhaled, held his breath for a second, and let it out slowly.

“Sorry,” Jeremy said before Jean could say anything else. “I didn’t mean— You really don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.”

“You said that already,” Jean reminded him, a bit of his good mood returning. Jeremy was cute when he got flustered, even if this was an uncomfortable subject. “Maybe I don’t _want_ them to exist.”

Jeremy frowned. “Why not?”

Each of these questions, and the answers Jean had to produce, were getting closer and closer to something deep in Jean’s core, something that he tired not to look at too closely during his day-to-day life. He wanted to withdraw, to take the out and tell Jeremy he didn’t want to talk about it. But in a way it felt like if he did that, he would be regressing, or stagnating. Going forward might have been the more difficult option, but it was also the direction that lead closer and closer to the thing he’d been chasing these past few months with his new team; this thing that looked like a life and getting better in some capacity.

Jean sat up, pulled his knees up and hooked his arms loosely around his legs. “It would save the both of us a lot of time if they were just never real in the first place.”

Jeremy stared up at Jean. Jean wondered for a second why he was so invested in this. But he answered his own question almost immediately. This was _Jeremy_ , who had the biggest heart of anyone Jean had ever met. He just genuinely _cared_ for people, wanted them to be happy, Jean included.

“What makes you say that?” He asked tentatively.

“Saves them the trouble of trying to make something work with me, and saves me the trouble of—" Jean swallowed, barely able to get the next words out— "of getting hurt when they realize it never will.”

Jeremy’s face fell, and Jean looked away from him. “What— Why would—“

Jean knew what Jeremy was trying to ask, so he decided to save him a couple minutes of fumbling around the point and just got to it. “Jeremy,” he started, cutting him off. “Even if there is someone out there who is supposedly… _Predestined_ to be with me, whose soul supposedly matches with mine, that was. That was before. Before… everything. Before the Nest. No one should be expected to stick around for what came out _after_.”

Jeremy was at a total loss for words. He had to try several times before he managed to say anything. “Jean, that’s not how this works,” he finally said.

“You cannot actually know that,” Jean countered.

“And you can’t really believe that— that this person would just bail on you because of. Of what? Because of what you’ve been through?”

“No,” Jean said, “Not because of what I went through. Because of… The version of me that came out on the other side.”

“Okay, well, that doesn’t make much sense,” Jeremy said. “Like, I know who you are now, on the other side of all that, and I don’t see why anyone would be, like, scared off.”

“You say that because you’re—” Jean waved a hand through the air. “You’re _you_. You could make friends with a pebble you found on the side of the road if given enough time. If anyone could tolerate some broken former Raven hanging around all the time, it’s you.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jeremy started, like he was gearing up for something. “I don’t _tolerate_ you. You’re my friend and I really _enjoy_ your company. And, second,” Jeremy set his face, tilting his chin ever so slightly upwards, “You’re not just 'some broken former Raven.'” Jeremy told him.

Jean didn’t say anything. Jeremy wasn’t done.

“Jean,” he said. “You’re not broken. You’re not, you’re—“ he waved his hand through the air, searching for words. “You’re not a plate or a mug or something that someone dropped on the ground. You’re a _person_. People don’t _break_. They get hurt. And, yeah, you got hurt, _really_ fucking badly. But you’re not _broken_.”

Jean thought that after knowing Jeremy for over nine months, he shouldn’t still be able to blindside him so completely. Yet here he was, trying to fit this new information into place and probably looking like a complete fool as he stared at Jeremy with a blank look on his face.

“And, okay, third, you’re not ‘a former Raven.’ That’s not just, like, your inherent identity. You played for the Ravens for a while, that’s just something you did, not who you are.”

Jean blinked, slowly. He raised a hand to his own cheek. “This says otherwise,” he said, slow and quiet, tapping a finger against his cheek bone.

“Psh. That’s just a tattoo,” Jeremy said. “Alvarez has a tattoo of a goldfish wearing sunglasses on her shoulder blade. But that doesn’t make her some kind of super cool fish. It’s just ink.”

Oddly enough, the first thing Jean said was, “does Alvarez really have a goldfish tattooed on her?”

Jeremy cracked a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s pretty awesome. You should ask her to see it when we’re back on campus.”

Jean nodded slowly. “I plan to.”

And just like that, Jean almost forgot what they were really talking about; Jeremy had successfully distracted him and drained almost all the tension from his body. That bone-deep doubt was still there somewhere, Jean wasn’t sure if it would ever go away, but it felt good to have its weight lessened for a few moments. Jeremy had a way of doing that. He always seemed to be able to somehow lessen the hurt that took up so much space inside of Jean.

“What about you?” Jean finally asked, once his churning emotions had settled to a manageable level.

“Hm?” Jeremy asked. “What about me?”

Jean almost couldn’t bring himself to ask. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. In the end, though, his morbid curiosity won out. “Have you met… Them, yet?”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, letting out a little huff of laughter. “No. I think you’d know if I did. I think everyone on Earth would. I doubt that’s something I would be able to shut up about for like even a second.”

Now it was Jean’s turn to say, “Oh.” Jean tapped his fingers against his knee. “So. You are… You’re excited to meet them?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. I really am,” he laughed again, but this time it sounded a little less-than sincere. “I mean. The idea really appeals to me, I guess.”

Jean tried not to let that sting. He didn’t even know why it did. It shouldn’t. _Jean_ was the idiot who’d gone and developed feelings for the first real friend he'd had. At this point, Jean felt a different kind of ache in his chest. This one, he was quite familiar with. He decided he’d had enough of. This. Whatever this was. This fucking affection he had for Jeremy was going to kill him eventually. He was entirely ready for it to stop, so he could just go on and be Jeremy’s friend without incident.

When he was sure his voice would come out steady and normal, he looked at Jeremy in his peripheral vision and asked, “Why’s that?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted, pulling the arms of his sweatshirt up over his hands. It was actually Jean’s sweater, but Jeremy always claimed Jean’s were warmer than his own, and Jean was wasn’t about to turn him down when he looked as cute as he did in a sweater that hung halfway to his knees and had arms long enough to hide his hands entirely. “Uh. It’s dumb. And kind of embarrassing.”

Jean took Jeremy’s own words to use because they felt appropriate at the moment. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too personal,” he said. “But. You can, if you want.”

The warm smile Jeremy cast up at Jean told him he caught that. Or, hell, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just had some extra warmth and felt like sending it Jean’s way. That would not have been unlike him. “Okay,” he said, “but you can’t make fun of me.”

Jean blinked, a trace of something like shock jolting through him. “I won’t. I _wouldn’t_.”

“‘Course not,” Jeremy said, with another of those warm little smiles. “Okay,” he said, “It’s just that. Sometimes I just. I scare people away,” he told Jean, his smile fading. “Like. I can be pretty intense. Emotionally. People don’t usually like it. So. Like. I guess... I guess I really like the idea that there’s someone out there who just fits with me, who’s not gonna get freaked out when I just. Y'know. Be myself. Sounds nice.”

Jean had to look away, because he was afraid that if he didn’t he’d do something stupid. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wanted to say that Jeremy didn’t need a soulmate for that. He just needed someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot. Anyone who could look at the truth of Jeremy Knox and get ‘scared away’ clearly didn’t have the use of all their brain. Or any of it.

And then, unwanted and unintended, he thought of Jeremy saying he wanted someone who just fit with him, and he thought of how much he and Jeremy _didn’t_ fit together.

Jeremy wore his heart bravely on his sleeve for all the world to see, and Jean... Well. Jean couldn’t even name what he was feeling half the time, much less verbalize it in any kind of coherent way. At his core, Jean was probably about as different from Jeremy as any soul could get. Whatever the _opposite_ of soulmates were, that must be he and Jeremy. He wished that thought didn’t fill him with so much sadness.

But this wasn’t about Jean and his miserably hopeless feelings. Jeremy was his friend, and he was a friend who’d basically just bared his soul to Jean. He deserved some kind of response.

“I’m not going to be scared off,” he said, and then hastily added, “nor are Laila, or Alvarez, or any of the rest of the team. You have. People.” _You have me._

Jeremy smiled a little ruefully. “And you don’t even know how grateful I am for that,” Jeremy told him. “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.”

As much as it hurt Jean to know he could never be that person for Jeremy, it hurt more to see him sad, so all Jean could do was hope Jeremy found that person soon.

In a last-ditch attempt to lighten the mood, Jean knocked his shoulder against Jeremy’s, giving him a small smile. Jeremy smiled back to him, which was somewhat of a relief. It was less of a relief when, a second later, Jeremy pushed himself off the log and got to his feet. “I’m pretty tired,” he said. “I’m gonna head to bed, I think.” He dusted off his pants, and Jean looked up at him.

Jean had the vague sense that he’d handled this wrong. That wouldn’t be a stretch; heart-to-hearts were _not_  Jean's forte, nor was giving love advice to the guy he was probably falling for. Before Jeremy could go, Jean caught his wrist in his hand, and Jeremy turned back and looked down at him. Jean looked down at the ground, suddenly unsure what to say. “I’m. I’m not very good this,” he said. “I’m sorry for— I’m sorry.”

Confusion flashed across Jeremy’s face for a split second, and then it softened and warmed. “Hey,” he said, using his free hand not in Jean’s grasp to gently squeeze Jean's shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything. Seriously, it’s nice to talk to you about this stuff. It’s always nice to talk to you. I’m tired, really.”

He sounded so sincere Jean wanted to believe him. And he did, mostly. It was just the part of him that was still shackled with self-doubt and shitty self-esteem that told him he’d screwed up. He shoved that part away, locking it up for the night. “Okay,” he said. He realized he was still holding onto Jeremy’s wrist, and hastily dropped his hand, freeing him up. Jeremy, in turn, took his hand off Jean’s shoulder.

Jeremy hesitated a moment. “You going to bed soon?” He asked, because of course he knew Jean didn’t like being alone if it could be avoided and he was always mindful of that.

Jean shook his head. “In a bit,” he said. “It’s very peaceful out here.”

Jeremy’s smile grew. “Fair enough,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jean returned, and spent a moment watching Jeremy retreat, before he slumped and turned back to the sky to watch the stars overhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic might actually be the Softest thing i've ever written. and that is Saying something !


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up the next chapter is Very Much a work in progress so i expect it will be a while before it's up :x as always thanks 4 being patient w/ me

Whenever Jeremy was nervous, he got fidgety. When he was anxious or scared or angry, pretty much whenever he had a problem, he got twitchy. It was the ADHD, filling him with all kinds of nervous energy.

He never felt fidgety around Jean. And that, in itself, was becoming a problem. He’d managed to ignore it, so far. To push his feelings away and pretend they weren’t there. But after spring break, something had changed, and Jeremy wasn’t sure how to handle this new reality.

It was Sunday, the day Alvarez typically took Laila over to her family’s house across town for lunch, so Jeremy texted Alvarez asking her to call him when she was free.

She called him back around 2:00 that afternoon. “What’s up?” She said as Jeremy picked up her call.

“Are you busy?” Jeremy asked.

“Nah,” Alvarez told him.

“Can you hang out?”

“Sure,” she said. “Laila’s working some homework right now, can I come up to your dorm?”

Jeremy hesitated. Jean was studying himself out in their own living room, and… Well, this wasn’t exactly a conversation Jeremy could have with him present. “Uh, how about we go to that coffee place you and Laila like?” He suggested instead.

“Yeah, sure,” Alvarez said. “Meet you in the lobby in ten?”

Jeremy nodded. “Perfect.” He headed out to the living room, let Jean know where he was going, and was out the door in two minutes, beating Alvarez down to the lobby. Jeremy was waiting by the door when the elevator dinged and she stepped out.

“Ready to go?” She asked when she met up with him.

“Yep,” he answered, as he pushed the glass double doors open for her to head through first before he followed her. “Are you driving, or am I?”

Alvarez shrugged. “It’s a nice day, why don’t we just walk? It’s not that far.”

“Sure,” Jeremy agreed. It _was_  nice out. Warm, but not too hot, for once.

They got there in under ten minutes. That was one of the perks of living adjacent to a big college campus; you could find coffee... basically anywhere. They ordered and took their drinks outside, sitting down in the covered seating area outside the little building. Jeremy took a seat on the bench, and Alvarez on the table, her feet resting on the bench beside him. Jeremy remembered the time Jean had asked Alvarez why she never just sat down properly, and Alvarez had just said it was a gay thing. That had made Jean laugh.

“Hey,” Alvarez said, waving a hand in front of his face. Jeremy blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d spaced out thinking about Jean’s laugh until he had to drag his attention back to Alvarez. “Earth to Jer.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy said. “What were you saying?”

Alvarez huffed. “I was asking if you got the chance to watch the Foxes’ last game.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, “no.”

“You should,” Alvarez said. “That Josten kid still hates the Ravens and won’t shut up about it. It’s excellent.”

Jeremy nodded. He used to love watching Neil Josten’s interviews during last year’s season. Until, that is, he found out what the Raven’s Nest was actually like, and what would happen to Jean every time Josten opened his mouth. He supposed there was no real harm now that Riko was dead and Jean was here in California, but still. Knowing Jean had been hurt made him inherently a little wary of the situation.

“Okay,” Alvarez said. “What’s up?”

Jeremy looked down, spinning his straw around in his fingers. “Sara?” He said, “can I tell you something?”

“Totally,” she said.

“And can you not tell anyone? Like, not even Laila?”

“Oooh, this is serious,” Alvarez said. Jeremy could feel her shifting closer to him, even though he still wasn’t looking at her. “Honestly, Jer, no promises. I can promise not to tell anyone _but_ Laila, if that helps? But it’s _Laila_. I can’t hide things from my girlfriend. It’s like, I physically _can’t_ keep secrets from her. Especially if you say to me: ‘don’t tell Laila.’ That makes it so that as soon as I see her I’m gonna wanna tell her!”

Jeremy smiled in spite of himself. “I guess that’ll have to work.” He nodded, and finally turned his gaze upwards to meet Alvarez’s. He took a deep breath and just said what he’d been keeping inside for. Shit, he didn’t even know how long. Weeks, at least, maybe a couple months. Even if he’d only realized it a couple days ago.

“I think I’m in love with Jean,” he told her, surprising even himself with how feeble his voice sounded.

Alvarez got this look on her face that Jeremy couldn’t quite identify. Her mouth opened a little, and her brows pinched together, and it took her a moment before she finally figured out what she wanted to say “Seriously, Jer?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“No,” Alvarez said, shaking her head. “Of course you love him. No fucking shit. I mean: _seriously_ , you’re _just now_ figuring this out?”

Jeremy stared at her. “What?”

She shook her head again. “Jeremy. Honey. Darling. Apple of my eye. I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been in love with him for, like, ages.”

“Excuse me?”

"Jeremy," Alvarez said. "Is this really, like, news to you?"

Jeremy frowned at her. "I fucking thought it would be news to _you_ ," he complained.

 

"Aw." She laughed, her expression softening based on whatever she saw on Jeremy’s face. “We thought you knew.”

“ _We_?" Jeremy balked. "Who’s _we_?”

“Everyone!" Alvarez waved her hand through the air. "Me, Laila, the team, Coach, God, probably.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jeremy exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. He was getting fidgety again. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Another laughed. “ _We thought you knew!_ Shit, Jer, it’s pretty obvious.”

Jeremy swallowed. His leg was jiggling. Yep. Fidgety. “Do you think Jean knows?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Jean’s even more oblivious than you are, apparently.”

Well. That was some consolation. “Good,” Jeremy said, flopping forward over his knees.

Alvarez leaned forward and patted his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo,” she told him.

“Bullshit! It’s so _not_ okay,” Jeremy protested. “Sara, I fell in love with my best friend. I just became the most predictable and pathetic gay cliché in the world.”

“Excuse me. Your _best friend_?” Alvarez said, indignantly gesturing to herself.

“One of my best friends,” Jeremy amended, a little mortified that he’d just said that to the woman he’d called his best friend for over three years. It was almost scary how important Jean had become to him in so little time.

Alvarez seemed appeased at that, if only slightly. “Technically, I think to _really_ be the most pathetic and predictable gay cliché in the world you’d have to fall for your _straight_ best friend.” She reasoned, grinning at Jeremy.

Jeremy scowled at her. “I'm glad my misery is so funny to you. Come on. This is serious, Alvarez. What am I gonna _do_?” And now he sounded like a whiny kid. Great.

Alvarez tried to suppress her grin, but did a real shit job of it, and gave up pretty quick. “Well, okay,” she said, “first, you find him, right? And then you get his attention, and you then you say, ‘Hey, wanna go on a date with me?’ or something like that.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I can’t just ask him out, Sara.”

“Okay, so don’t ask him out. Just go for it. Kiss him. Make a move. Jump his bones.”

“I can’t do that either,” Jeremy said. “I can’t— I can’t do any of that.”

Alvarez sighed. “Why not?”

“I’m his captain,” Jeremy said. He looked around, making sure no one was within earshot, but there were only a couple other people there and they were sitting a decent distance away and all seemed wrapped up in their own conversations. “You know who his last captain was.”

“You’re not Riko Moriyama,” Alvarez said, suddenly very serious, her expression sobering. “You wouldn’t hurt him like that. Shit, you wouldn’t hurt him at all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy said. “The connection’s there. It’s. It wouldn’t be good for him.”

Alvarez frowned. “I think you should let Jean make his own decisions about what’s good for him or not.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jeremy blurted, and then lowered his voice. “He needs to be able to make his own choices, and I’m afraid that if I make a move, because— because I’m captain, he might feel like he can’t say no to me. If, and that’s a big fucking _if_ , anything ever happened with us, I can’t be the one to… start things.”

Alvarez nodded. “He might not even know starting anything is an option.”

“Probably ‘cause he doesn’t even _want_ to start anything.”

Alvarez sighed, sticking her straw between her teeth. She nudged his thigh with her boot. “You’re a fucking idiot,” she said.

“And you’re a bully,” Jeremy said. “You’re bullying me.”

“You’re still an idiot,” Alvarez informed him.

“Yeah, maybe,” Jeremy said with a shrug.

Alvarez huffed. “It’s gonna be fine, Jeremy,” she told him. “Seriously. One way or another, this will work itself out, and everything’s gonna be okay. I mean, worst case scenario, nothing happens, and maybe it hurts for a while, but you guys get to just keep being friends. And that’s not so bad, right?”

“Yeah, that’s not so bad,” Jeremy agreed.

In the end, Jeremy figured it didn’t really matter what form he and Jean’s relationship took. As long as Jean was a part of his life, Jeremy would be happy. Jeremy wasn’t going to be one of those assholes who made his unrequited crush everyone else’s problem; it was _his_ problem, and he could live with it. He could be happy being Jean’s friend. He would be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god u guys. i know i said i wasn't gonna self deprecate on this fic but. holy hot shit on a cracker this chapter is TESTING me ! writing it was a bitch and a half don't even @ me i just wanna curl up and die. i wrote two versions of this chap and i Hated both of them but i do not have the energy to rewrite it again !
> 
> so i pray to so many gods y'all like this chap better than i do because jkdfhgdfjhg i just need to post it so i can get on with the fic !!
> 
> anyway sorry about all that. pls enjoy thnk u

It as four days out from the day the Trojans were set face off against the Ravens, and Jean was not looking forward to it. Pretty much since he learned the game date, a pit of anxiety and tension had been growing inside his chest. Jean had been dreading this for months now, but actually knowing when he’d have to see them again was so much worse than he'd thought it would be.

And now, with less than a week to go until game night, that pit had solidified until Jean felt a physical weight inside of himself. He felt unable to even move without setting anxious dread seeping through his body. It was at least some consolation that the game would be taking place in LA; Jean wasn’t sure he could handle stepping back into the Raven’s Nest, even as a guest.

Things were getting bad enough it would almost be a relief when game day finally came.

Almost.

There was no way facing the Ravens would ever _really_ be a relief, even with Riko dead. There were still plenty of faces he wasn’t exactly eager to see, plenty of people he would’ve preferred to avoid for the rest of his life.

And Jeremy was worried about him. Of course he was. He asked Jean if he was doing okay an average of three times per conversation. Jean absolutely wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure how to communicate that. Strangely, he wished he could figure it out. He'd never been good at verbalizing his feelings, but he might’ve been just a smidgen less miserable if he could actually talk to Jeremy. He always felt better when he talked to Jeremy. But whenever he tried… he just couldn’t get the words out, so everyday he just wound himself tighter and tighter.

And that lead to pushing himself too hard in practices. Maybe not by Raven standards, but Jean hadn’t been a Raven for over a year, and by Trojan standards Jean was running himself into the fucking ground. He felt like he was watching more and more of the progress he’d made over the past year slowly coming undone everyday, and he couldn’t even do anything to stop it.

Jean just knew he couldn’t let them win. He wasn’t sure if he could live with that.

So, yes. He was pushing himself. He told himself he’d rest after they beat the Ravens, and hoped he was being honest with himself. He was already looking forward to it; he’d forgotten what it felt like to go to bed every night with aching muscles and stiff limbs from pushing himself to limits that he hadn't even come close to in the year since he left the Nest.

Monday was a disaster.

Morning at the gym wasn’t the best, but Jean got through it. He had therapy between his classes and afternoon practice, thankfully. But practice that afternoon turned morphed into a complete nightmare anyway.

He was tense the entire afternoon, and it was probably this tension that was throwing him off his game. It was only a matter of time before he fucked something up, really.

Still, he wasn’t even sure how he managed it when about an hour into scrimmages he wound up over-extending on a save and falling flat on his ass, knocking over his mark as he did so. The miss was bad enough on it’s own, but he’d also twisted his arm at an awkward angle and had his racquet knocked several feet away from him across the court.

“Shit, sorry,” Jesse said, pulling himself back up to his feet and dusting himself off. “My bad. That was totally my bad.”

Jean was sure it _was_ ; he’d made saves more difficult than that with his eyes practically closed. But Jean wasn’t the same person he had been at the start of the season, so he just shook his head and waved Jesse off. Jean wasn’t blameless, he couldn't take it out on his team.

“You guys good?”

Jean looked up to Alvarez. She’d been playing as Jean's partner, so she’d been close enough to make it over to them already.

Jesse said, "Yep," at the same time Jean told her. “Yes.” 

But as he went to push himself to his feet, he felt a twinge of pain in his wrist when he attempted to put pressure on it. He inadvertently slumped back to get the weight off his right arm, and then cursed himself for doing so. They may not be Ravens, but he still wasn’t keen on showing the entire team every weakness he had.

Alvarez scowled. “You sure about that?” She asked, offering Jean a hand.

Reluctantly, Jean took it, putting his pride aside to avoid sitting around on the court all day. He let Alvarez haul him back up to his feet. “Yes,” he said.

Alvarez narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, causing Jean to prickle.

“And now we are holding up play,” he told her.

Alvarez leveled an unimpressed glare at him. “I’m _making sure you’re not hurt_ ,” she said.

“And I already told you I’m not,” Jean insisted, even as Alvarez reached for his arm and he stepped back, away from her.

“If you mean that, let me see and make sure.”

Jean glared at her. In truth, it was still smarting, and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know that. “I can play.”

“Oh, weird,” Alvarez said, “I don’t remember asking if you could play, I remember asking if you were hurt or not.”

“I don’t remember you _asking_ me anything, actually.”

Alvarez rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“What’s going on?”

Both Jean and Alvarez turned in the same moment to look at Jeremy, both still scowling up a storm. Jean was pretty sure neither one of them had even noticed his arrival. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.

“Jeremy,” Alvarez said, rounding on him. “Talk some sense into your boy, please.”

Jean was not overly fond of her word choice. He wasn’t even sure what she meant by that, but he didn’t like it, and, okay, really, this whole thing was dragging out _way_ longer than it needed to.

“What?” Jeremy said, bewildered.

“Alvarez is stalling play for no reason,” Jean said, casting a pointed look at Alvarez as he did so.

“Only because he’s hurt and won’t do anything about it,” she said. “Will you please tell him to get it checked out or something?”

Jean opened his mouth to retort, but Jeremy beat him to it. “You got hurt?” He asked, and. Fuck. The way it came out, so gentle and worried, really tugged at something in Jean’s chest, bringing him up short. “Can I see?”

“It’s nothing,” Jean said, but he held out his hand anyway.

Jeremy took it as gently as he could with his bulky gloves on. Jean hid a wince when it twinged with pain even at such a simple movement. He must not have hid it well enough, because Jeremy went statue-still.

“Oh, so you let _him_ check it with no problem, huh?” Alvarez said, but now she sounded more… teasing than annoyed. Jean did not like that very much either. “Of _course_.”

Jean went slightly red, and snatched his arm back and snapped his attention back to Alvarez. “If I go get it checked, will you _shut up_?” He asked.

Now she grinned at him. “Gladly,” she chirped.

So Jean turned and stalked off the court. He snatched his racquet from the floor with his uninjured arm as he went, not bothering to put it away properly in case he returned to practice soon enough to need it. He just dropped it on one of the benches in the outer ring with his helmet, which he had to fumble with a little to get off with all his poorly-suppressed anxiety.

Jean had broken his right wrist (okay, Riko had broken it) once when he was 15. There was no doubt the injury had never gotten a chance to heal properly. The break had been minor enough (barely a hairline fracture) that he’d been back on the court that next day.

What if he’d somehow exacerbated that old injury? What if he couldn’t play in the game? What if he was out _longer_ than that? What if he’d somehow fucked something up beyond repair and he never played again? As unlikely as that scenario was, it made Jean’s heart plummet. He was finally building a life he found bearable, and he’d lose it for good if he didn’t make the cut for the pro league next year.

Jean shook those thoughts from his skull and stomped his anxiety down with the heel of his shoe. He approached Coach Rhemann and stopped in front of him.

“They think I have injured myself and are refusing to let me play until I prove that I haven’t,” Jean said stubbornly.

Rhemann regarded him for a moment with a single raised eyebrow. “Okay,” he said. “Good. Go.”

Jean huffed, but he hadn’t been expecting much else, so he turned and made for the locker room.

 

-

 

An hour later, and Jean was still sitting on the table in the room the nurses used to bandage up their players during games, or, in Jean’s case, check out minor injuries sustained during practice. He couldn’t bring himself to get up, much less leave the room and face the team yet.

Lost in his own thoughts, he nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard a gentle knock on the door. Figuring it was one of the nurses back for something else, Jean managed to call out for them to come in even though he could barely hear himself over the pounding of his heartbeat.

Only, it wasn’t a nurse who entered.

Jeremy squeezed in through the door and shut it quietly behind him. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned against the door, looking up at Jean. “Hey,” he said.

Jean swallowed. “Hey,” he managed to return.

“So—" Jeremy started, but Jean didn’t let him finish. He knew what Jeremy was going to ask, and figured he’d save him the time of trying to beat around the bush to be polite about it.

“It is just a sprain,” he said. “A minor one.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, nodding. “Okay.”

“I am— I'm not supposed to play for a week,” Jean told him blankly.

Jeremy put one of those terribly cute smiles on his face. “That’s not so bad, right?”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. It could’ve been so much worse. Put in perspective, this was a good outcome. He’d be back on the court by next Monday, he would barely be missing anything. Just one game, four-and-a-half more practices. But Jean still felt like his world was crumbling. And maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn’t help it. It was an _important_ game he'd be missing.

“I won’t be able to play in the next game.”

“Guess not, huh?” Jeremy said with a shrug. “It’ll be okay. We can still kick their asses without you on the court.”

Jean bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, his hands curling loosely in his lap.

Maybe his silence tipped Jeremy off, or maybe he was just brooding so heavily it was physically palpable, but Jeremy’s smile faded. “Are… you doing alright?” He asked.

He wasn’t sure if he had the energy to get into this with Jeremy, but he also didn’t have the energy to lie or blow him off. “I won’t be able to face the Ravens.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. He shrugged. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Jean bristled. “I can play against them,” he said defensively.

“I know,” Jeremy assured him. “But maybe you shouldn’t have to. Like, you’ve been scared and anxious just _thinking_ about playing them. Maybe it’ll be better for you to sit it out.”

“I’m not… weak,” Jean said, trying not to get stung at Jeremy’s concern.

“I wasn’t trying to imply that you were,” Jeremy explained. “You’re not weak for— for taking care of yourself.”

Jean looked down at his lap, flexing his fingers stubbornly. “If I don’t play, they will think I’m weak, whatever the reason.”

Jeremy mulled that over for a few seconds. Or maybe he wasn’t mulling. He was quiet for a few seconds, anyway, and it seemed like a contemplative silence to Jean. “No offense,” he finally said, “but, like. So what?”

Jean’s gaze darted back up to Jeremy’s face. He didn’t even need to say anything, his look said it all.

Jeremy shrugged, squaring his shoulders. “I can’t think of anyone’s opinions that are _less_ relevant than the Ravens’. Especially when it comes to you and what you do or don’t do on the court.”

“I wish I could look at it that way,” Jean managed to grind out.

Jeremy sighed and slumped back against the door. “Me, too,” he said. “They don’t deserve even a second of your time.”

Jean looked away again. Sometimes he couldn’t handle it when Jeremy said things like that.

“Is there— do you need anything?” Jeremy asked, when it became clear Jean wasn’t going to say anything. “Can I do anything?”

Jean shook his head. “No,” he said, “I…." He started with no idea where the sentence was going, finally just finishing with, "I’m just going to go home.”

“Right, yeah, good idea,” Jeremy said. “Do you want me to drive you? I can dive you back.”

“No, thanks,” Jean said. “I can walk.”

“You sure?” Jeremy asked. “I can, like, give you my keys, or something. Or, I really don’t mind driving you.”

Jean figured Jeremy was still trying his best not to leave Jean alone for too long, which was kind of him, but unnecessary. Even though it didn’t feel that way all of the time, Jean had come a long way since last May. Being on his own was no longer the panic-inducing nightmare it had been at this point last year. Right now he just needed time to himself to clear his head.

“Jeremy, it’s fine,” he said, sliding off the table to his feet as if to prove his point. “I injured my wrist, not my legs. I can walk six blocks back to the dormitories.”

Jeremy nodded, stepping away from the door. “Okay, okay. Fair enough.” He put his hand on the doorknob, paused briefly, looking back at Jean. “Call me if you need something, okay?”

Jean didn’t point out that Jeremy’s phone would be tucked up in his locker until the end of practice and as such Jean wouldn’t even be able to reach him. He didn’t plan on calling. That would kind of spoil the whole ‘being alone’ thing Jean was going for. Jean just nodded. “Alright.”

Jeremy gave him a smile, and Jean wished he could return it.

 

-

 

Without Exy, the rest of the week dragged by agonizingly slow. Everyday felt like it lasted about a week in and of itself. And without the exertion of practice to drain his energy, Jean found it harder and harder to get to sleep at night. By now, he really was eager to just get on with the game and get it over with. Even if he wouldn’t be playing, he couldn’t get the Ravens out of his head enough to find any peace with their anticipated visit looming.

When game time finally came around, the team gathered together at the stadium, Jean was half-relieved, half-terrified, and all anxiety.

It was too much for him to just watch his teammates bustling about, getting ready to face off against his old team. So, he pushed open the locker room door, and marched over to Jeremy’s locker.

Jeremy was too busy digging around in his locker for his gear to notice Jean approach, so Jean grabbed onto his bicep and pulled him around to face him.

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking in obvious surprise.

“I need to play tonight,” Jean said.

Jeremy exhaled slowly, studying Jean all the while. “That’s really not up to me,” he finally said. “You could talk to Coach, maybe get your wrist checked again.”

Jean huffed in irritation. “I already spoke to Coach, and a physician,” he told Jeremy. It was the truth. He’d gotten it checked out again during while the rest of the Trojans had practiced earlier. Even though he wasn’t feeling any pain anymore (well, a minimal amount of pain, at least. Not enough to give him any problems) he’d been banned, rather adamantly, from returning to the court early.

“And they told you…?”

Jean frowned. “They don’t want me to play.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, shrugging. It was only then that Jean realized he was still holding onto Jeremy’s shirt sleeve, and he dropped his hand hurriedly. “I can’t really override their decision. Looks like you’ll have to sit this one out.”

Jean crossed his arms. “I’m not in pain, I can play.”

“Just ‘cause it doesn’t hurt anymore, doesn’t mean you couldn’t hurt yourself worse trying to play,” Jeremy responded.

Jean just stared Jeremy down, but his glares had long since stopped having an effect on Jeremy.

“Look,” Jeremy said, low and soft, sighing and taking a fraction of a step closer to Jean. “I’m really sorry this is hard for you. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier. But you need to take care of yourself, and you can’t play if you’re hurt.”

Jean hadn’t really thought Jeremy would be able to do anything. It wasn’t like he could overrule the coaches and people who had actual medical training. But Jean needed to try. He shut his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t even sure if sitting out would actually be any more difficult than playing would’ve been.

“Fine,” he managed. “And—" He stopped, paused, cast a furtive glance around. Everyone else seemed busy getting ready, having their own boisterous conversations, too loud and distracted to overhear this one. Besides, Jeremy deserved to know. “You are already doing plenty to make it easier.” Jeremy made most things easier by just existing and being a part of Jean’s life.

“I… Really?”

Jean nodded. “Yes.” Without Jeremy… Jean would be a total wreck. Well, more of a wreck than he already was.

Jeremy smiled. “Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do _tonight_.”

“Just _win_ ,” Jean said, before he could really think. “If you can. Just try.”

“Uh, dude, that was already the plan,” Jeremy told him, raising his eyebrows.

That managed to pull a huff of something close to laughter from Jean. Just like that, weeks worth of tension… Not gone, but lifted momentarily. “I should hope so.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said, smiling at him one more time. “Let me get dressed so I can go kick some Raven ass, yeah?”

So it was with a little less dread in his heart that Jean turned to go.

“Hey, Jean,” Jeremy called, and Jean turned back to him. “It’s gonna okay. I promise.”

Jean wasn’t sure if that was a promise anyone could make, but Jeremy had never broken a promise to Jean before.

Jean nodded slowly. “We’ll see,” he said, and turned back around before Jeremy could say anything else.

Unsurprisingly, Jean got a few looks as he left. He returned a few of those looks, because even if his glare had lost its effectiveness on Jeremy, that was not the case for the vast majority of the team. It was a little satisfying, even if alienating his teammates probably wasn’t the best idea right now. For some reason— no, he knew the reason, he couldn't pretend he didn't— it was also a little satisfying to spot a small patch of green and yellow coloring Ryan’s ribcage as he hurriedly turned away from Jean’s glare. Green and yellow that definitely _wasn’t_ replicated anywhere on Jeremy’s skin. So maybe his jealousy on Halloween was... not necessary.

There were still plenty of reasons to feel awful, but Jean left the locker room in a slightly better mood than when he’d entered, feeling like… Maybe he could make it through this game and come out the other side looking some shade of _alright_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the next chapter will be up quickly. it's already finished n just needs to be Edited. stay tuned y'all. some shit's about to pop off


	11. Chapter 11

Two weeks later, and the team had just qualified for finals. They were still riding the tail-end of a two-week high that had followed their first ever victory over the Ravens in team history, and now everyone was through the roof ecstatic. Even though Jeremy had known this was coming, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt when they qualified.

They were playing like a dream this year, there was no way they wouldn’t have made it, but he was still over the moon about making it to finals again. Even Jean looked happy, at least to the educated observer. Compared to the other Trojans, he might’ve looked downright dreary, but Jeremy saw the signs; the relaxed set of his shoulders, the tiny smile tugging at his lips. He was definitely pleased with tonight’s outcome, and after the stress Jean had been under a few weeks back, that just made things even better for Jeremy.

The energy in the locker room was high and electric and _alive_ , and no one was ready to end the night. They didn’t have the time to plan an official party, but somehow most of the team ended up back at Laila and Alvarez’s dorm when they left the stadium. No one felt like going to the store, but among the 28 of them, they had enough half-empty bottles left over for a decent liquor haul.

Jeremy elected not to drink tonight; that would leave more for the rest of the team, and no hangover to contend with in the morning seemed like a win/win.

It was a sign of Jean’s good mood that almost immediately after they arrived, he allowed a group of younger backliners to rope him into conversation about the game. He was friendly enough with the rest of the team, but he was still reserved enough that he rarely spent time outside of practice with more than a handful of them. It was nice to see him comfortable and branching out, even if Jeremy itched to follow him and talk to him all night long.

Jeremy couldn't have Jean all to himself, so he tore his eyes away. He made his way over to a group of people hanging out in the kitchen, and lost himself talking and playing dumb party games with the rest of the Trojans gathered there. He didn’t even see Laila and Alvarez; Jeremy wouldn’t be surprised if they were hidden away in their bedroom, despite offering to host the entire team in their dorm. But Jeremy couldn't blame them; he was in a good mood, and this was a good night.

It was over an hour before he even saw Jean again. Trojan parties had the potential to get wild, but this one had stayed pretty tame and almost low-key.

In Jeremy’s opinion, it was a pretty spectacular night, and it only got better when Jean made his way through the crowd and found Jeremy where he was sitting on the arm of the girls’ couch.

Jeremy couldn’t help it; he was like a hopeless fucking moth and Jean was the brightest flame in the room. He dropped out of the conversation going on around him, turned towards Jean. He sat up a little straighter as Jean neared, a stupid grin taking over his face involuntarily.

Once Jean was close enough, he smiled back, and Jeremy’s heart tried to climb out of his throat. Jean probably had the most gorgeous smile Jeremy had ever seen. Every time he got to see it he felt lucky, and a little further gone.

“Hey,” Jeremy said.

“Hi,” Jean returned.

“Having a nice night?” Jean’s hair was a little messier than normal, like he’d been running his hands through it. Jeremy wanted to reach up and comb it with his fingers.

Jean seemed to think about that for a moment. His smile was replaced by a look of consideration, but it returned a moment later. “Yes. I think. Yeah.”

Jeremy’s smile widened. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”

Jean nodded, humming in agreement. His eyes seemed a little less focused, but then he blinked and met Jeremy’s eyes. “What about you?” He asked.

“Definitely,” he said. _Better now that you’re here_ , he didn’t say.

“Good.” Jean’s smile grew now, and he nodded, shutting his eyes for a second. When he did, he swayed slightly on his feet. Jeremy instinctively reached out a hand to steady him, grabbing Jean’s bicep with a gentle grip.

“Are you drunk?” Jeremy asked, eyebrows pinching together slightly in concern.

Jean hummed again, giving one nod. “It would seem that way."

“I thought you don’t drink.”

“I do not,” Jean confirmed, still smiling slightly.

“Oh,” Jeremy said. “So, what’s different about tonight?”

Jean shrugged. “I had an iced tea,” he said, “It had. A few shots in it.”

“A _Long Island_ iced tea?” Jeremy asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Jean said, nodding.

Jeremy pursed his lips. He’d never seen Jean drink before; his tolerance must be outrageously low. He figured he should probably keep an eye on Jean for the rest of the night, make sure he was okay.

“Tanaka says he adds an extra shot of rum,” Jean said, his head tilted a fraction to one side as he looked down at Jeremy. “It’s his—“

“Secret recipe,” Jeremy finished. “Yeah. I’ve had Toby’s drinks before.” Toby made his drinks _strong_ , too. Oh, boy. “Did he warn you he was gonna mix it so strong?”

“No,” Jean said. “I thought it was just. Normal iced tea.”

Jeremy blinked. “You didn’t know it would be alcoholic _at all_ before you drank it?”

Jean shook his head. “Not until I asked for a second one.”

Jeremy sighed, running a hand through his hair. Toby’s parents owned a high-end liquor store over near Hollywood, and he was one of those people who probably wouldn’t even consider the possibility of a college student wanting to stay sober during a party. He probably just didn’t know Jean didn't drink. Still, he didn’t like this. “I’m gonna kill him.” Jeremy said, frowning, and sliding off the arm of the couch.

“No no no, don't do that,” Jean said, and as Jeremy turned to go, Jean caught him by the sleeve of his T-shirt. “You would need to _leave_ to do that. Don’t do that,” he repeated. “Stay here.”

Jeremy turned back to Jean, catching and holding his gaze, sucking in his bottom lip. Jeremy nodded, finding himself absolutely incapable of doing anything but plant his feet right where they were. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

Jean looked supremely pleased, with a smile that wouldn’t leave his face. He dropped his hand from Jeremy’s shirt sleeve, but they were still standing quite close together and Jean didn’t make a move to back away. Somewhere in the back of his mind Jeremy thought he should probably be the one to do it if Jean wouldn’t.

Before he could, though, Jean said, “Jeremy. Can I tell you something?”

Jeremy nodded. “Of course,” he said, fighting to keep his voice level, feeling very aware of how close Jean was standing to him.

“Have I told you yet,” he started, “that I. I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Jeremy softened. He felt like warm butter in a microwave. “I mean,” he started, “you haven’t. But that’s okay. I kinda figured, anyway.”

Jean hummed again, his smiling widening. For a moment Jeremy imagined that he’d put that smile there, instead of the booze. “Good,” Jean said. “Good, I’m glad.”

Jeremy gave him a smile in return. “Hey,” he said, “I hope you know, I really like spending time with you, too.” That was an understatement, if Jeremy was being real, but he wasn’t about to say how crazy he really was about Jean.

Jean let out what sounded like a breath of relief, his expression softening and his head tilting slightly to the side as he seemed to study Jeremy’s face. “Can I tell you something else?” He asked, after a brief moment.

“Anything,” Jeremy told him.

“I wish it was you,” Jean said, without preamble or hesitation, like he'd been waiting to say that, his tone suddenly heavier.

“You wish… what was me?” Jeremy asked. Jean was close enough he had to tilt his head back to look him in the eyes. Jean had truly, truly lovely eyes. Jeremy had once told Alvarez they looked like the color of the ocean after a rainstorm, and she’d given him a _look_  and told him to calm down.

"My… my _person_ ,” Jean said, waving one of his hands through the air while he searched for the right word. “You know. My match. My soulmate. I wish it was you.”

Jeremy stared at him, going completely wide-eyed.

“If it was you…” Jean pursed his lips, let out a sigh.

Jeremy wanted Jean to finish his sentence. Jeremy wanted Jean to shut up. Jeremy really wanted Jean to be sober right now. “Jean,” he said.

“Jeremy,” Jean said. He reached out, placed his hand gingerly on Jeremy’s waist. Jeremy forgot to breath. “Jeremy. I would— I want— kiss me.”

Jeremy swallowed. He shut his eyes, inhaled, exhaled slowly, and put a hand up on Jean’s chest. “Jean, I—“ He made himself take a step backwards, using his hand on Jean’s chest to keep the distance between them there. He’d just heard something he’d been wishing to hear for _months_ , had everything he’d wanted for a while now at his fingertips. But he couldn’t act on it. Because, really this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Jean to want to kiss him, he didn’t want to take advantage of Jean while he was drunk and not acting like himself. “We can’t,” he said, shaking his head and opening his eyes to look back at Jean. “I can’t.”

Jean’s hand fell back to his side, his face going completely, carefully blank in under a second. “Oh,” he said. “Right.” He took a step back, turned, and was gone so quick Jeremy could hardly believe it, weaving between people before Jeremy could even think to react.

“Jean,” he called out, starting after him. “Wait—“

He didn’t even make it one step before his shin connected, hard, with the corner of the girls’ coffee table. Jeremy stumbled and wound up tripping over his own feet. He caught himself with his hands, but one of his elbows knocked against the coffee table on his way down, twinging with pain.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He pushed himself up and getting to his feet, brushing aside an offer for help and a couple nearby Trojans asking if he was okay. He scanned the crowd, running his right hand through his hair as he did so, but he couldn’t seen Jean anywhere. He asked a couple people, but he'd bolted too quickly and none of them were sure where he’d gone.

Jeremy cursed himself, and eventually dropped down and sank into the couch. Maybe it was best to give Jean some space; he could explain better once some of the alcohol had worn out of Jean’s system, and once he’d had a while to cool off.

He didn’t see Jean again for the rest of the night. Even when he got back to the dorm they shared, it was empty and dark. Jeremy suppressed a stab of worry. He had friends on the team outside of Jeremy, he was probably just crashing on one of their couches. If he didn’t hear from him by the end of tomorrow, he’d freak out, but for now he would just give him space and try not to beat himself up too much.

 

-

 

The next morning, Jeremy woke up to his phone going off relentlessly. He rolled over, his first instinct to shut off his alarm, before he remembered it was Saturday so this incessant chiming couldn't be an alarm since he never set any for the weekend. By the time his still half-asleep brain figured out someone must actually be trying to get in touch with him, his phone had gone quiet.

Jeremy blinked, rubbing his hand over his face, and pulled his phone close to check. Unsurprisingly, it was Alvarez. There were four missed calls from her, and several text messages.

The first one, which had arrived hours ago, read: _jer pls tell me why ur roommate stole my girlfriend out of bed at the ass crack of dawn this morning._

And then, streaming in periodically throughout the morning: _neither one of them r answering their phones_

 

_omg laila left her fucking phone here. what a dumbass im gonna kill her_

 

_ok but real talk jean seemed a lil distraught. did something happen??_

 

_oh right i forgot you sleep like a fucking 15 yr old stoner who stays up all night playing xbox_

 

_now i’m just bored call me when u wake up._

 

That last text had come only minutes ago. Jeremy stifled a yawn against the back of his hand and sat up, pushing his blankets back. His eyes naturally went to Jean’s bed, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to find it empty. It still sent an unpleasant pang through his chest. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and put off answering her until after he’d gotten ready. Finally, he called her, and she was at his door fifteen minutes later.

When she arrived, Alvarez brought smoothies with her. Well, no, she didn’t bring smoothies, she brought the entire pitcher off her blender, with had a smoothie in it at the time, and split it up into two mugs when she got to Jeremy’s dorm. Jeremy didn’t protest or ask questions; Alvarez made great smoothies so he wasn’t about to turn her down.

“Okay,” Alvarez said, once they were both holding cups of mango-peach smoothie. She plopped down on the couch and threw her feet up onto the coffee table. “So what’s up?”

Jeremy perched beside her on the couch, holding his glass between both his hands and staring into it. “I think fucked up last night.”

Alvarez raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her smoothie, her prolonged silence an indication for him to go on.

Jeremy sighed. He told her, haltingly, at length, about what had happened at her party last night. He left out the bit where Jean said he wished he and Jeremy were soulmates. Somehow that felt too private to give away to Alvarez.

“So now he probably thinks I hate him,” Jeremy concluded with, dejectedly. “And I don’t know if he’s still gonna want to spend time with me at all, or if it's gonna be awkward as hell if he does. I don’t even think he came home last night.”

Alvarez studied him for a moment, and then hummed in consideration, tapping her index finger on the side of her mug. “Okay,” she said. “Clear one thing up for me real quick?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are, like, madly in love with the guy, right?”

Jeremy flushed deeply. “I mean—“ He wouldn’t say _madly_. But then again, the words he used (desperately, hopelessly, etc) weren’t much better. So. Okay. “Yeah.”

Alvarez nodded. “So, then, why did you shoot him down, exactly?”

“Oh my god,” Jeremy said, dropping his head backwards against the back of the couch. “I didn't _shoot him down_. He was drunk off his ass, and that would’ve been so _completely_  fucked up of me to take advantage of. He probably doesn’t even feel that way about me. It so easily could’ve just been the booze talking.”

Alvarez nodded. “I mean, that first part made a lot of sense,” Alvarez agreed. “Definitely not a good idea to like. Make a move on the guy when he can’t even consent to anything. That’s kinda—“

“Disgusting,” Jeremy volunteered.

“I was just gonna say skeezy, but yeah, that works too.” Alvarez agreed. “But… I am very curious what leads you to believe that second thing you said.”

“You mean the thing about—“

“How he’s probably not into you when he’s sober? Yeah,” Alvarez nodded.

Jeremy shrugged. “He’s never shown any interest. And I’m his captain, so that just complicates things all the way to Hell and back. And—“ He almost stopped himself from adding the last bit, but eventually just made himself say it. “We’re not even soulmates.”

Alvarez sucked in a breath, and let it out very slowly, shaking her head as she did so. She muttered something in Spanish that Jeremy was pretty sure meant ‘dumbass’, or at least something along those lines, and gave Jeremy a look. “Jeremy, honey, do you need to get your eyes checked? Because, if you really, honest to god, truly believe he’s not interested, you must be fucking _blind_.”

“Sara,” Jeremy started, but she wasn’t hearing it.

“No,” she said, “I am so fucking serious right now. Jeremy,” she looked him dead in the eyes. “Are you listening to me?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Jean Moreau is absolutely over the fucking moon for you,” Alvarez told him. “I _promise_.”

Jeremy couldn’t make himself believe it, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. There was obviously no changing her mind. And, yeah, sure, Jeremy didn’t want to spend his energy convincing Alvarez that Jean didn’t love him. That would hurt like hell.

“And, okay,” Alvarez continued. “You like him. He likes you. You make each other happy. What is complicated about that?”

“I already told you,” Jeremy huffed.

“Look, Jer…” She sighed. “All relationships are complicated. Just fucking _talk_. Like, you’re not straight people. You two can _communicate_. And as long as you can communicate and respect each other you can make it work.”

“I mean, that’s fair. But—" But their situation had the possibility to have more complications than open communication could solve. He just shook his head. Going down that road was a whole twisty path of nerves and anxiety and doubts about their entire friendship.

“But?” Alvarez asked. “But, I’m right, and you know it.”

Jeremy shrugged. He thought about Jean saying _I wish it was you_ , and suppressed a shiver. He took a sip of his smoothie to distract himself. 

As if she could read his mind, Alvarez continued on, this time saying, “And honestly, who cares if he’s not your soulmate. It’s not like there’s some cosmic law that says you’re only allowed to date your soulmate. Do you think Laila was the first girl I ever dated? And I know for a _fact_ you’ve had other boyfriends in the past.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. And look how well all those worked out.”

“You do have pretty spectacularly shitty taste in men,” Alvarez conceded. “But I think we can both agree that Jean is the exception there.”

Jeremy nodded. “He’s really fucking great,” he agreed.

“I agree,” Alvarez said. “And, hey, c’mon, you know some people don’t meet their soulmates till they’re like, old and retired and in nursing homes and shit. And some people don’t even date their soulmates. Maybe your soulmate is just supposed to be a really close friend while you and Jean go do your thing. You guys can’t just hold out forever. Even if you’re not, like, _meant to be_ , I think you’d be good for each other.”

“I do too,” Jeremy said, before he could help himself. _Fuck_.

Alvarez grinned at him victoriously. “So fucking do something about it.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I can’t,” he said.

Alvarez’s grin faded. “Why not?”

“I still hurt his feelings,” Jeremy said. “Even if you’re. If you’re right, I need to give him time to cool down. I can’t just corner and be like ‘hey, sorry last night was weird as hell, but I'm in love with you.’ I need to give him some space for a while.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Alvarez said, satiated. She seemed to remember her drink for the first time, and took a long gulp of her smoothie. “Still,” she finally said. “You can’t just miss out on something that could be really great for both of you because you’re scared.”

Jeremy wrinkled his nose, and shoved at her shoulder.

Alvarez’s smile returned, knowing that was as good as acquiescence from Jeremy. “So,” she said. “We play the Foxes again in a couple of weeks. What do you think our chances are?”

Jeremy blinked at the change of subject, but latched on gratefully, and he let Alvarez drag him into another conversation about this year’s strategy.

Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, even while Exy was occupying most of his thoughts, what Alvarez had said was nagging at him. He still promised to give Jean all the time and space he needed, but maybe some time in the future… He allowed himself to be a little bit hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the long island ice tea thing is based on a true story. apparently a bunch of my friends back in my hometown went out for drinks and the girl who was s'pose to be designated driver wound up drunker than the ppl she was meant to drive home b/c the bar tender kept giving her long islands when she told him she wanted 'ice tea.' i thought it was funny n i've always wanted to use it in a fic :3c
> 
> i really wish i could've included laila and jean's convo in the second scene. if i wasn't doing this whole alternating jean/jeremy chapter pov thing i would've. it's really good in my head


	12. Chapter 12

Jean gave himself a few moments of indulgence and let his shower run longer than was strictly necessary. He shut his eyes, standing under the warm water and letting it ease the aches out of his muscles. It was strange; the only pain he felt came from working out, from running up and down the court. There were no stitches, no knife cuts, no bruises besides those he acquired during practice. And even those were barely half what he might’ve received during a typical practice with the Ravens.

Jean almost smiled to himself at the thought, but he was too exhausted to manage. He just relegated the thought to an ever-growing, metaphorical folder in his mind titled Things He Was Grateful For With The Trojans.

His fingers were thoroughly pruny by the time he finally shut off the water and dried off. The locker room was empty when he stepped out of the stall, so Jean took his time getting dressed in the fresh, clean clothes he kept in his locker. He threw a sweatshirt on, even though it was probably nearing 90 degrees outside. He just felt more comfortable wearing them these days, and the dorm would be air-conditioned anyways.

Jean didn’t expect to find anyone else still in the stadium; In fact, he’d hung back deliberately to make sure he wouldn’t. He’d even told Jeremy to head home without him. He’d planned on walking back to the dorm, taking the time to himself.

But there were two people still hanging around in the team room when he pushed open the locker room door. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Jeremy had stuck around despite Jean telling him he didn’t need to. Jeremy was just like that; considerate and selfless to a fault. He _was_ a little surprised to see Laila with him. He thought she and Alvarez would be back in their dorm by now.

He didn’t know what they were talking about. He’d come in at the tail end of some conversation, but he could see that Jeremy looked tense and Laila looked exasperated. Jean stopped in his tracks, almost wishing he could vanish back into the locker room. But he’d already been spotted. Laila glanced over at him, nodded, and then turned back to Jeremy, giving him a pointed look.

Jean didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it was, it made him uneasy.

A moment later, Laila turned back to Jean, and waved at him. “See you later,” she said, trying to smile, before she wheeled around and left.

Jean just nodded after her. He watched her go, waited until the door out of the stadium had shut completely behind her, before he turned back to Jeremy. Jeremy was already watching him, chewing on his bottom lip.

Jean ducked his head to avoid his gaze and started for the door himself.

“Wait,” Jeremy said, before Jean could make it halfway across the room. He took a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

Jean pursed his lips, shut his eyes, braced for whatever was coming, and turned back to face Jeremy. “About what?” He asked, even though he thought he knew. He’d been studiously and successfully avoiding any prolonged interaction with Jeremy outside of the court specifically to avoid this conversation. Jean had spent Saturday and Sunday night at the girls’ dorm, and he’d stayed out as late as he possibly could every day this week. He spent most of his time at the library. It was probably doing wonders for his grades. Or at least it would be if he didn’t spend most of his time there lost in his own head.

He’d always known someone like Jeremy could never be interested in someone like him, but it still hurt to have it confirmed. Right then, he truly hated the Trojans for teaching him to hope and want again.

Jeremy fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. “Um,” he said. “I just. I really want to clear the air. About— about last Friday.”

Jean sighed, biting the inside of his cheek and letting his head hang.

“Look,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even and steady. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t force Jeremy to want him, and Jeremy had to know that. He couldn’t feel guilty for the rejection; Jean would get over it, and they would be friends again. God, he really hoped they could be friends again. “You don’t have to say it. In fact, I would prefer— I would prefer if you didn’t. It’s fine. I understand. We can just forget it.”

“You don’t even know what I was planning to say,” Jeremy said.

“You are going to find some very polite way to say you’re not interested or I’ve crossed some kind of line, and probably make yourself feel guilty about it in the process,” Jean guessed. “But you don’t have to be guilty. We can just. I would like it if we could just go back to normal.”

Jeremy looked up at him, his face raw with some emotion Jean couldn’t identify. Or maybe it was lots of emotions at once.

“That’s not what I was going to say at all,” Jeremy said.

“Okay,” Jean said blankly. Hesitantly, he asked, “what were you going to say, then?”

“I was— I just.” He took a moment to steel himself. “Jean, I love you,” he blurted, eyes wide. “I am… _so_ in love with you,” Jeremy said, his voice cracking mid-sentence.

Jean figure it out, then. It was vulnerability he saw all over Jeremy’s face.

“Like, stupidly, over the moon, ridiculously, embarrassingly in love with you,” he continued, “and. Fuck. I don’t even care if you’re not. If we’re not _supposed_ to be together, if you’re not my soulmate, I don’t care, I just. Just, forget about, fate, or the universe, what-the-fuck-ever decides these things. I want to be with  _you_.” He stopped short, taking a breath. “And, okay, shit. I really don’t want to freak you out or overwhelm you, but… I just. Yeah. I don't want to forget it. I love you.”

Jean didn't say anything. Jean _couldn’t_ say anything. He wanted to, but his tongue seemed unable, or maybe just unwilling, to listen to his brain. He wasn’t sure if he really let the silence drag on for that long, or if Jeremy was just panicking, because after what Jean thought was no more than a couple seconds or floundering hopelessly for words Jeremy started up again.

“Look,” Jeremy said, “look. You don’t— I mean. Nothing has to change. It’s okay, if you don’t feel the same. I don’t wanna make you feel pressured, or anything like that. Whatever you want, it’s fine. It’s okay, I promise.”

Jean nodded, because what else was he supposed to do? He still couldn’t seem make words form.

“Oh my god,” Jeremy breathed. “Please tell me you’re not totally freaked out.”

Jean blinked, and finally managed to return to himself. “No,” he managed, although it was quiet and rough. “I am not freaked out. I’m…” He trailed off. “I thought… After last Friday, I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I know,” Jeremy cut him off, “and that’s why I wanted to talk. I wasn’t trying to say no, like, _forever_ , I was just saying no _that night_. You were drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage. I didn’t even know if you really felt that way or if it was just the alcohol talking.”

Jean felt his entire world start to shift sideways. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t know what he felt. Still not freaked out. Maybe a little surprised. Or, a lot surprised. He’d probably feel a whole lot when that faded. “I need— I—“ He shut his eyes and took a breath.

Until now, Jean hadn’t been able to put into words what he felt for Jeremy. He’d thrown a lot of words around; Laila called it a _crush_. Renee used a more abstract term that could be interpreted in a variety of ways, and just said Jean had _feelings_ for Jeremy.

Jean himself had never named it, but he recognized the amorphous blob of warmth in his chest as some kind of affection, or attraction, just some kind of _want_ for something more. He hadn’t ever felt anything like it before; even with Kevin, back when they were kids, it was different. That had mostly been a way to find some sort of comfort in a shitty situation.

And this was most definitely _not_ that.

Jeremy _wanted_ Jean. Said he wanted him more than he wanted anyone else. Jeremy said he’d pick Jean over the person he was supposedly predestined to be with. And Jean? Honestly? He felt the same way. He’d convinced himself years ago that he probably didn’t even have a soulmate, but right now he didn’t care, because he had Jeremy, and he wanted Jeremy right back. And Jean hadn’t spent the last year of his life in thrice weekly therapy, clawing his way out of the pit he’d lived in for ten years to deny himself things he wanted when they were within his reach.

Jeremy used the word _love_.

Love was a big word; it was daunting and unknown and frightening. It felt like stepping off some sort of invisible ledge.

But it also felt _right_ , like something that had been slightly off for months was finally clicking into place. Now that he finally had a word for it, finally had a way to name this feeling that had taken root inside him months back and kept growing until it took up too much space to ignore.

If he was completely honest with himself, he’d fallen in love with Jeremy a while ago.

And Jeremy was in love with him, too.

Jean let out his breath, and opened his eyes. He took a step towards Jeremy, and then another. Jeremy looked up at him, but for once, he didn’t say anything.

Jean swallowed back his reservations. “You said… You said nothing has to change, if I don’t want it to,” he repeated back to Jeremy slowly.

Jeremy nodded. “No. Like you said, we can just. Go back to normal. Just keep going.”

When Jean spoke, his voice was quiet and raw, but it took all his courage to just say what he wanted to, he didn’t have any energy left to regulate it. “And what if I do want things to change?” He asked. Jeremy blinked. “What if I’ve wanted that for a long time now? Would that be okay, too?”

Jeremy looked like he was fighting to to take a breath. “That would— yeah. That’s. Yes. That’s okay.”

Tentatively, hesitantly, Jean raised his hand and rested his palm lightly on Jeremy’s chest. Jeremy had used this same gesture on him, last week, but this was different. Jeremy had done it to put distance between them; Jean was doing it to bring them closer. Jeremy was so warm, even through the fabric of his T-shirt.

Jean shut his eyes, and took a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a second before he left it out in a quiet huff through his mouth. “Jeremy,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I— I am a lot to handle.”

Jeremy reached up and traced his thumb over Jean’s cheekbone (his _left_ cheekbone) before he cupped Jean’s cheek with in his palm. He did it slow enough that it gave Jean time to pull away, or tell Jeremy not to. But he didn’t. Jeremy’s touch was so light, so gentle. If he’d felt warm before, now heat radiated out from his cheek across his entire face and into his heart. He was probably turning into a lobster right about now, but what did it matter?

“I just _fundamentally_ disagree with that,” Jeremy told him.

Jean searched Jeremy’s face. His soft brown eyes were set in what looked almost like a challenge. “You can’t just— You can’t do that.“ Jean shook his head.

“Yeah, I can,” Jeremy said. “I don’t think you’re a lot to handle. I don’t think you need to be _handled_ at all,” he told Jean. “I think every minute I’m lucky enough to spend with you is infinitely better than if you weren’t there. I think you’ve been making my life amazing since we became friends. Everyday I’m grateful to have you in my life.”

Jean thought he should probably say he felt the same about Jeremy. At the very least, he should tell him he loved him too, or tell him any of the gross, gushy things he’d thought about Jeremy in the time they’d known each other. But he didn’t tell him any of that. In fact, Jean didn’t tell him anything.

Instead he bent his head down and pressed his lips to Jeremy’s.

He felt Jeremy’s breath catch, and then Jeremy leaned into the kiss, melting against Jean.

Kissing Jeremy was better than he’d ever thought it would be. (And he’d thought about it a _lot_.) His lips were soft, and every point of contact between them (Jean’s hand on his chest, Jeremy’s palm against his cheek, where their lips met) felt like opening the door to some new world Jean wanted to explore more of.

It was over too quickly.

Jeremy pulled back, just an inch or two, but enough to break the kiss. His cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet, eyes still closed when Jean opened his. It seemed to take him a minute before he could open them, which. Well. It made it hard for Jean to think clearly. He finally opened them, and looked up at Jean.

“Wait,” Jeremy said. “Is this really okay?” He managed to ask.

“I—” Jean bit his cheek. His thoughts were bit scattered right now. “Wait. Yes. Is this not— I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It is,” Jeremy said, “But. I realized— You said ‘what if?’ You never actually _said_ it’s what you want. So I just. Are you sure? Do _you_ want this?” He asked again.

Jean smiled. Small, probably a little lopsided, but real. “Of course I’m sure. I— I told you. On Friday. Everything I said that night was true.”

Jeremy’s blush deepened. “Oh,” he said, nodding. “So… Can I kiss you again?”

Jean didn’t want to waste any more time talking, so he just nodded, and met Jeremy halfway. This kiss was different; open mouthed, a little clumsy, and more than a little needy. Jean’s hand slid up from Jeremy’s chest to the back of his neck, and then he buried his fingers in Jeremy’s hair. He’d wanted to do that for a while. It was nice to finally be able to.

Granted, Jean had only really kissed one person in his life before Jeremy, but he could still definitively say that he had never been kissed like this. He couldn’t remember kissing making him _feel like this_.

Jean wasn’t keeping track of how long they kept up like that, but the mood was thoroughly ruined when a voice near the other end of the locker room said, “You two share a dorm room. Must you do that _here_?”

Jean jerked and took two sudden steps back from Jeremy. Jeremy let go of him, and even under the sudden spike in his heart rate Jean felt the absence of body heat keenly.

He had thought they were the last two left at the stadium. Apparently, he was wrong.

He brought his hand to his lips, like he could somehow hide what he’d been doing, and avoided looking at either Jeremy or Coach Rhemann, who had just come out of his office.

Jeremy’s laughter brought him back from the edge of actual panic.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, and when Jean looked up at him he was running a hand through his hair, like he did when he was feeling a lot of something. Jean noticed what he thought might be some kind of ink stain on his thumb. A stupid detail, but Jean was _very_ aware of Jeremy right now. “That’s, uh, that’s fair. Jean and I were just leaving.”

Jean nodded, throwing a quick glance at his coach. He was not in the Nest anymore, but he was still viscerally aware of what would happen to him if he had been, if a different coach had just walked in on him kissing a boy. Coach Rhemann, however, actually looked like he was fighting back amusement. Jean should not be surprised, and was a little annoyed with himself that he was.

“Please do,” Rhemann said, crossing his arms. “I’m heading out. I need to lock the place up.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yep. Gotcha, going.”

Jean’s nod mirrored Jeremy’s.

Rhemann hesitated before he turned to go, his eyes narrowing a bit. Not in anger, Jean told himself. “Hey, Moreau,” he said. “Did someone get up under your face guard today?”

Jean furrowed his brows. He couldn’t remember taking any hits to the face, but he just shrugged. It was entirely possible. A lot happened during practice, and the backline was a very physical position to play, even in Exy. “Maybe,” he said.

Rhemann hummed. “Looks like it,” he said. “Looks like you got a bruise forming,” he motioned to his left cheekbone. “Around the, uh. There. Might wanna get some ice on that.”

Jean nodded again. He opened his mouth to say he would, but he was stopped by Jeremy’s hand on his jaw. Jeremy gently turned his face back towards him, and Jean’s attention zeroed back in on him, on the intent look in his eyes, the soft set of his slightly-parted lips.

“That’s not a bruise,” Jeremy said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEET


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright u guys this is the last chapter i have fully written. from here on out updates are going to take a long time and be a lot more sporadic till this thing is finished. 
> 
> which will be soon ! we're nearing the end here !!! i think i've got about 3 chapters left in me (i have two actual chapters and an epilogue of sorts planned out, but we'll see. that's subject to change)
> 
> as always thanks for the patience, enjoy some shameless sappy ass fluff to hold u over till i get more written :3c

Jeremy spent the next few hours thinking about the past 10 months of his life. He thought about all the touches he and Jean had shared over this past year, some of them casual, some of them anything but. It seemed like it should be impossible that they’d managed to avoid touching skin-to-skin until now. But Jean had told him the day he’d signed his contract that he didn’t want that, and Jeremy had done everything he could to respect his wishes. Eventually, he supposed it just became second nature, almost instinctual, not to touch Jean without some kind of barrier between their skin.

He hadn’t been able to think of much else since he and Jean left the stadium together hours ago. It was either that, or he could drive himself crazy obsessing over the way Jean had kissed him and then immediately gone dead silent and shut himself off when they discovered the marks.

Jeremy was trying to give him space. He really was. He could understand that Jean might have a lot to process right now. But this wasn’t just about Jean, this was Jeremy’s life, too, and it was getting really hard not to obsess himself into his own panic spiral.

Jeremy was perched on the arm of the couch in the living room of he and Jean’s dorm, because he had too much nervous energy inside him to actually sit down at the moment, but he didn’t want to just pace around the room all day. He had his hands tucked under his thighs, trying to stop the impulse to stare at the darkening mark that was spreading across his thumb and down onto his palm. It was, admittedly, a totally useless endeavor, and only a couple seconds later he pulled his right hand free to inspect the mark. It had started out looking like a bruise, but by now there was no mistaking it for what it really was.

It was, at least, more subtle than Laila and Alvarez’s cotton-candy-colored marks. It kind of looked like that time he’d gone to visit an ex in the art department and accidentally stuck his hand on a painting someone had done of the night sky. (He’d learned two things that day. First, that oil paint apparently just _never fucking dries_ , and second, that it’s a very real pain in the ass to get off your skin.)

This mark would be harder to remove than oil paint. He was stuck with this one for life. Jeremy wrinkled his nose at that thought. He wasn’t _stuck_ with this. That was a terrible way to put it. It was permanent, but it wasn't like he’d just been saddle with something he would have to learn to deal with. Actually, when he’d first seen the mark on Jean’s cheek, he’d been fucking ecstatic. Finding his soulmate was enough to make Jeremy happy, but finding out _Jean Moreau_ was his soulmate felt like a little ball of radiant happiness had made a new, permanent home for itself inside his chest and burst open, sending warmth out through his veins in pleasant little waves.

The only problem was that he was pretty sure Jean didn’t feel the same. Jeremy knew that Jean liked him. He’d said as much earlier today, and Jeremy believed him. And, fuck, there was that kiss. Jean had definitely, _definitely_ meant that. But he’d also told Jeremy he was convinced that his soulmate would abandon him, so Jeremy had no idea how Jean was taking the news. He had to know Jeremy wasn’t going to abandon him. Or hurt him. He had to.

And. Fuck. Okay. If Jeremy just kept running in circles in his head all day he was going to drive himself head-first into an anxiety attack. He would just have to push a little. It would probably be good for both of them if he did.

Jeremy pushed himself off the couch, padding silently down the hall. The bathroom door was open, and Jeremy found Jean leaning against the countertop, poking at his cheek.

It was then that Jeremy got his first good look at the mark on Jean’s cheek. When it had first shown up after practice that afternoon, it had looked even more bruise-like than Jeremy’s. It had actually looked kind of like a nasty black eye. But by now it had darkened, and the colors had filled in, and now there was no mistaking it for any kind of bruise.

Jeremy’s first thought was that it was actually quite lovely; deep blue and silver intermingled together, reminiscent of the colors of a moonlit night sky. But more striking than that, even, was that it completely covered the 3 on Jean’s cheek. In the place of the thin black tattoo was a blotchy, undefined smudge that spread all over his cheekbone and dipped down a little into the hollow of his cheek.

After a few seconds of open staring, Jean’s eyes found Jeremy’s in the mirror, and he started, turning to face Jeremy. Jeremy leaned against the wall, hiding his hands behind his back.

He meant to ask Jean something like ‘are you okay’ or ‘how are you doing,’ but instead what came out was: “Are you disappointed?”

Jean blinked, just as caught off guard as Jeremy. “No,” he said, like he didn’t even have to think about it.

Jeremy felt a weight he hadn’t even noticed was there fall away. His shoulders slumped, and he nodded, letting out a slow breath.

“Why?” Jean asked, quiet and apprehensive. “Are you?”

“No!” Jeremy said, “no, oh my god,” and then he crossed the few feet between and took both of Jean’s hands in his before he even really realized what he was doing. “Not at all.”

Jean looked down at where Jeremy was holding both his hands, and for a fleeting second Jeremy worried he’d fucked up. Was he allowed to touch Jean now? Did this afternoon change things? The truth was Jeremy had absolutely no clue where the two of them stood. But then Jean twisted his hands around so he could hold on to Jeremy's.

“So, uh,” Jeremy said, remembering that he’d meant to ask Jean something. “Are you okay?”

Jean looked up at him. “Yes,” he said softly. He sighed, letting his eyes close for a moment. “This is just… A lot.”

Jeremy nodded. “I understand,” he said, even though he probably didn’t. He had no idea what Jean was going through right now. He stood on his toes and, hesitating for a second, reached up to lightly tap his finger against Jean’s cheek. “What about this?” He asked, because there was one thing that was nagging at him. “It covers your tattoo. Are you okay with that?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to ask, because Jean looked away, the beginnings of a frown tugging at his lips. He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and that was all he gave in way of a response. Jeremy nodded, accepting that. If Jean needed time to process, Jeremy didn’t need to know.

So instead he asked, “Does this… change things?”

“Change things,” Jean repeated, finally looking back at Jeremy. “What things?”

Jeremy swallowed, mustering up all the courage he had in him. “What happened earlier,” he said, “you know. At the stadium.”

Jean’s face clouded with emotions. “ _Should_ it change things?” He asked.

“I mean, that’s what I wanna know,” Jeremy told him.

Jean closed his eyes, and sighed. “Jeremy,” he said. “Can we agree on something, here and now?”

“Um. Yeah, sure,” Jeremy said.

“Can the two of us please just… Stop being so stupid and afraid?”

Jeremy blinked. “ _Are_ we being stupid and afraid?”

“Yes!” Jean insisted, with so much conviction behind it it startled Jeremy. “I told you I _wished you were my soulmate_. And it turns out you _are_. We _love_ each other, and yet still we’re trying to dance around each other like teenagers! To me, it seems as though we are being about as stupid and afraid as two people can behave.”

Jeremy opened his mouth to respond, but then his brain caught up with _everything_ Jean had just said and he felt a little pang. “Wait,” he said, “You… You love me too?”

“Yes,” Jean said, “Yes, god, Jeremy. This is what I mean!” he dropped his face into his hands. “Of course I do. I have for some time now. But the both of us were too afraid, and too stupid, to do anything about it.”

His heart stuttering in his chest, Jeremy gently took Jean’s wrists in his hands, pulling his hands back from his face. “Okay,” Jeremy agreed, a shaky smile on his face. “No more being stupid and afraid. Deal.”

Jean let out a huff of a breath. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t even subtle about the fact he was staring at Jeremy’s lips, and it kind of made Jeremy want to die. “Okay,” he breathed. “Good.”

And then he kissed Jeremy, and, god, it was so nice.

Jeremy’s entire body turned to putty and he practically melted against Jean, dropping Jean’s wrists so he could slide his hands up into Jean’s hair, which was just as soft as Jeremy always thought it would be.

And Jean, well. Jean was just putting his hands all over Jeremy, and Jeremy, for the record, was _totally_ okay with it.

Jean said something about making up for 21-years of kisses. Jeremy wanted to argue that it couldn’t really have been 21 years. Jeremy, at least, hadn’t kissed anyone like this till he was about 17, so he figured that more accurately they were making up for five or six years of kisses.

But then Jeremy had a thought: why would he want to argue with Jean when he could just keep kissing him instead? So, for once in his life, he blessedly managed to keep his mouth shut, and eventually the thought left his mind entirely. As did all the other thoughts that usually took up space in his head. Pretty much everything that wasn’t Jean’s lips against his seemed to bleed right out his ears over the next. Well. However long. Nothing else really seemed important at the moment.

It was inevitable that it had to stop at some point. They’d need to come up for food, or water. Or air. Still, when Jean slowly pulled his head back, Jeremy was reeling.

Jeremy still had his eyes closed. He should open them. He couldn’t. He took a breath.

“Wait,” Jean breathed. “Wait.”

Jeremy blinked, looking back at Jean. At some point he’d ended up sitting on the countertop, with Jean standing between his legs. Jean’s hair was a total mess. Jeremy realized belatedly that he must have buried his hands there at some point. His cheeks were flushed dark red, and his eyes were wide and bright. Jeremy swallowed.

“Jeremy,” Jean said.

“Yeah?”

“I think we need to slow down. Just a little.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jeremy said, returning to reality in a sobering heartbeat. He sat up straighter, unwinding his arms from around Jean with some reluctance. “Yeah, okay. Right. No problem.”

“Can we just… talk for a bit?” Jean asked.

“’Course,” Jeremy said. “There’s probably a lot we should talk about, anyway. I mean, before anything like that happens again.”

“Oh?”

Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek. “I need to know something, Jean,” he blurted. “Like. Okay. I’m,” he swallowed, leaning backwards and searching Jean’s eyes. “I’m your captain. And that’s… That has to be complicated, and messy, right? And. I just want to make sure that’s not gonna be a problem for you.”

Jean’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch, but he didn’t look… Deterred, or frightened, or annoyed, so Jeremy figured that was a good thing. Or at least, it wasn’t a _bad_ thing.

Jean took a breath. “Okay. Jeremy, listen,” he said. “I understand why you would worry about your rank, but…” He traced one of his fingers over the back of Jeremy’s hand where it was resting on his knee. “Riko didn’t have power over me because he was captain. He had power because of— because I was his property.” Jean could say it so bluntly, but Jeremy still felt a familiar curl of anger in his heart just hearing it said out loud again. But he didn’t dare interrupt. Jean knew how Jeremy felt about… _that_ by now. “Riko wasn’t _captain_ to me, he was _king_. I knew him for ten years and he was only captain for three of those. You've no need to worry.”

Jeremy swallowed. “Are you sure? Because. God, I don’t ever want you to feel like—“

“I am absolutely sure,” Jean interrupted. “The only thing you make me feel is… Safe.”

Jeremy figured he should say something, but the only thing he could make come out of his mouth was a very ineloquent, “Oh.”

Apparently that was enough, because Jean actually huffed and let a tiny smile slip onto his face. “And, of course, you will only be captain of the Trojans for another month. I’m certainly hoping you plan to stick around longer than that?”

“Duh,” Jeremy said.

Jean nodded. “So it is not a problem.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said, undeniably feeling better. “If you say so. But. Just, promise me one thing, okay?”

Jean nodded. “Alright. What is it?”

“If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, even a little, tell me, okay?”

“If it makes you feel better, then I promise,” Jean told him. “If you promise me the same thing in return.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I tell you?” Jeremy asked.

“Because you are selfless to a fault, and you put everyone else’s needs and comfort above your own,” Jean said. “Promise you won’t do that with me. We both need to be comfortable for anything to work between us.”

Jeremy smiled at him, giving his hand a light squeeze. “Okay. I promise.” he said.

Jean gave one swift, curt nod. “Good,” he said, and then took Jeremy’s hands and used them as leverage to pull him in and steal one more swift kiss.

Jeremy took a moment to just be… happy. He was sure there were more kisses down the line, but that didn’t stop each one from feeling special. “Hey,” he said, “What are you going to tell people? What’re, what are _we_ gonna tell people?”

“Right,” Jean said, retracting his hand from Jeremy’s to bring two fingers up to his left cheek bone. Apparently he didn’t need any clarification; what else could Jeremy be talking about beside the giant fucking splotch he’d left right on Jean’s face? At least Jeremy could hide or explain his away, it wasn’t so glaringly obvious like Jean’s was.

Jeremy folded his hands in his lap, acutely aware of how cold his palm felt without Jean’s against it.

Before Jean actually touched his cheek, his fingers half a centimeter away from his skin, he seemed to realize what he was doing. With a pinched scowl, he dropped his hand absently, his fingers giving a faint twitch as he did so. “Who do you mean when you say ‘people’?” He asked.

Jeremy shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, “The team? Sara and Laila? Renee? Kevin? I’m sure the press is gonna have a few things to say when they see your face.”

“Kevin lost the right to know anything about me the day he abandoned me in the Nest,” Jean said bluntly. “I don’t plan to tell him anything. Let him think what he likes.”

Jeremy nodded. “That’s fair,” he said. “But Kevin and I talk. And we’re gonna see him next week when we play the Foxes. Am I allowed to tell him?”

Jean’s mouth twitched the tiniest bit, his eyes dropping. “If you want,” he said.

Jeremy tilted Jean’s chin up with his index finger so he could look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said. “I don’t have to. This is about both of us. If you don’t want to tell him anything, I won’t tell him anything.”

Jean’s entire expression softened. “No,” he said, “he’s your friend. You can talk to him about. This. If you want.”

Jeremy nodded slowly. He decided he'd tell Kevin if Kevin asked him; he didn't need to volunteer this information. It wasn't like they were that close anyway. There were people they _were_ close to who would have a lot more to say. “What about the girls?”

Jean huffed. “Something tells me they will piece this together all on their own regardless of what we tell them.”

Jeremy laughed quietly. “Fuck. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jean’s held Jeremy’s gaze, and something that looked a little like guilt flashed in his eyes. “And. I, uh. I already told Renee.” He admitted. “I texted her an hour ago. I hope that’s alright.”

Jeremy stifled a grin by biting his lower lip. “Yeah,” he said, “That’s fine. She’s your best friend, you can tell her anything you like.”

“She’s not,” Jean said, a crease appearing between his brows. Jeremy wanted to put his thumb there and smooth it out. “Renee is not my best friend. She’s very special to me, yes, but. You’re my best friend,” Jean told him.

It took a second for Jeremy to process that, wherein his brain felt like one of those spinning pinwheels on a frozen laptop, but finally Jean’s words clicked. “Oh my god,” he said, covering his blushing cheeks with his hands.

“It’s fine if I’m not yours,” Jean said, obviously misinterpreting Jeremy’s reaction. “But you are mine. I figured you knew this.”

Jeremy gave Jean a wide-eyed looked, leaning forward and putting his hands on Jean’s shoulder. “You are, oh my god, of course you are. I mean, Sara and Laila are also my best friends, but. You’re definitely my best friend, too.”

“I… Didn’t realize you could have more than one best friend,” Jean told him.

“You can have as many best friends as you like,” Jeremy told him. If anyone deserved a whole hoard of best friends who cared for him deeply and unabashedly, it was Jean Moreau.

“Hm.” Jean nodded, considering that. “I’ve never even had one best friend, it feels odd to have… many.”

“Odd in a good way?” Jeremy asked.

Jean eased himself into Jeremy’s space, and a second later he let his forehead fall onto Jeremy’s shoulder. “Yes.”

Jeremy wrapped his arms gently around Jean’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb up and down the back of his neck, happy to just let this moment drag on forever.

“Hey, Jeremy?” Jean mumbled into his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Why are we having this conversation in the bathroom?”

Jeremy froze. He looked up, and laughed. He hadn’t really thought about it, but after he’d found Jean staring at his reflection they hadn’t gone anywhere, and he was currently sitting on the counter beside their bathroom sink. If he leaned half an inch to the side he was pretty sure the medicine cabinet would poke him in the shoulder. “Good question,” Jeremy said.

Jean straightened, and took a step back. Jeremy slid off the counter, and went back to being a good half-a-foot shorter than Jean as soon as his feet touched the ground. He let Jean take his hand and lead him out to the living room, where they could talk (or not talk) in more comfort on the couch.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEE sorry for the long wait for such a short mostly filler chapter. look, not everything can be deep conversations about Love sometimes a bitch just needs to write some lighthearted Razzing between friends !

Jean did not usually consider himself an overly self-conscious person, or even a self-conscious person at all. If there was one thing he could thank the Ravens for, it was leaving him at a place where he didn’t care what people thought about him. Maybe the path that had led him there was a fucked up, dehumanizing path, but it was still nice to be able to brush aside any judgement he received.

And yet, when he left the dorm room on Monday morning, he felt every glance in his direction like a laser trained directly on his skin.

He didn’t want to be so self-conscious about this. He didn’t want to walk out the door and subconsciously keep trying to cover up his cheek with his hand. Of all the marks to want to keep hidden, he had to pick the one that had been left on his body by _love_ instead of abuse. Clearly, there was something still deeply fucked up inside him somewhere.

He didn’t _want_ to be afraid to love Jeremy publicly. He didn’t want to be afraid to love Jeremy, period.

Jeremy deserved to be loved loudly and freely. He deserved to be loved the same way he loved Jean, and Jean wasn’t sure if he was capable of giving him that. That kind of vulnerability did not came easy to Jean. Just telling Jeremy how he felt had taken everything he had. Jean had made a promise to Jeremy that he would stop being so afraid, but he didn’t know how to get rid of  _all_ his fear.

It wasn’t like he even had the choice of hiding. This mark wasn’t like his scars; he couldn’t cover it with a nice pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Even Jeremy could hide his mark of he chose to with long sleeves, strategic hand placement, pockets, and the gloves they wore at practice. But the patch of silvery-blue dominating Jean’s left cheek would be the first thing anyone saw when they looked at him. Maybe that was for the best; it would force him to be brave. Maybe he needed that.

He told himself it was no big deal. His friends might tease him, sports journalists might try to corner him on Friday, but in the grand scheme of things, no one would care. It was just another mark; every human being on earth had or would one day have a mark similar to his. It was only a big deal to _Jean_.

They managed to make it all the way down to Jeremy’s car unaccosted; the elevator was empty, and the only people in the lobby were a couple of strangers Jean had never seen before who didn't give him so much as a second glance. They wouldn’t be so lucky when they got to morning practice, but… He couldn’t hide forever. He didn’t want to hide forever. Or at least he didn’t _want_ to want to hide.

He was not as lucky when they made it to the gym for morning practice. Nearly as soon as he’d stepped out of the car, he heard a very sharp, “Oh my god,” somewhere off to his left, and braced himself. He and Jeremy had already agreed they were fine with the team _knowing_ , but Jean as not at all prepared for the actual moment of the _finding out_.

He turned to see Alvarez slamming the door of her own car a few spaces away, before she made a beeline for him. Laila stood up on the passenger seat to peer over the roof of the car to get a look at whatever had set her girlfriend off, and from the look that came over her it didn’t take her long to notice.

“Jean Moreau, what the _fuck_ is on your face?” Alvarez asked, striding right over to him and standing on her tiptoes to see better. She reached up like she wanted to turn his head for a better view, but Jean batted her hand away and she didn’t try again.

Jean could feel his face setting in the beginnings of a scowl, and tried to soften it. “Are you asking because you honestly don’t know, or because you want to rub it in?”

“I mean, I know what it is,” Alvarez said with a shrug and a shit-eating grin. “But I’d still like an explanation.”

“Yeah,” Laila, who had no made her way over herself now and perched with her elbow on Alvarez’s shoulder. “I’ll take one, too, if you’re just handing them out.”

And now Jean did frown. Laila probably deserved something; she’d been listening to Jean whine about Jeremy and all the feelings he’d convinced himself were one-sided for months now. “Do I really need to explain?” Jean asked. “Isn’t it... Isn’t it kind of _obvious_ what happened?”

“Well, yeah,” Alvarez said, “I can tell _what_ happened, but I want details. When did this happen? Who is it? Is it someone on the team?”

“I— really?” Jean said, taken aback. He cast a glance to Jeremy, who had come around to Jean’s side of the car, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his lips pursed shut. “I would have thought that was the most obvious part of this whole thing.”

Did they really think Jean had somehow met someone else over the weekend? Someone who he’d learned to trust enough in just three days to let them put their hands all over his face when it’d taken him ten months to get to that point with Jeremy?

“I don’t…” Alvarez started, but she trailed off. Laila had put it together fast, following Jean’s gaze as it turned to Jeremy and then staying there.

And then Laila was right in front of Jeremy, and she pulled his hands out of his pockets by the wrists, flipping them palm-up as she went. “Of-fucking-course,” she said.

“Jesus, Jeremy,” Alvarez said, looking between the two of them. “What did you do, smack him in the face?”

Jeremy’s eyes went wide. “What? No, I wouldn’t— No! Sara, that’s _not_ funny,” he stammered, mortified. “It was just like—“ he managed to pull his hand free from Laila’s grip, and then he mimicked the way he’d held Jean’s cheek in his hand on Alvarez’s face.

“Okay,” Laila said, looking back up at Jean. “How is this even possible? Like, I’ve _seen_ you guys touch each other. How did this not happen ‘till now?”

There had been an awful lot of touching before the mark, but when Jean thought about it, it was always through clothing. “It was never skin-to-skin,” he explained.

Laila stared pointedly at him. For someone who was nearly an entire foot shorter than Jean, Laila had a very big presence. “Seriously? It’s been, what, almost a year, right?”

“About ten months,” Jean confirmed.

“Right,” Laila said. “Ten months. How did it take ten fucking months to touch?”

“Jean asked me not to. When we first met,” Jeremy supplied with a shrug. “So I just. Didn’t.”

Surprised, Jean looked to Jeremy. He vaguely remembered telling Jeremy he didn’t do skin-to-skin contact when they had talked at Abby’s house, but that seemed like such a distant memory he hadn’t even thought about it until now. He hadn’t realized Jeremy had just been following his wishes all this time.

“This is really not a big deal,” Jean finally managed to say, looking down at his feet.

“I mean, it would’ve saved Laila and I about six months of bitching from both of you if you guys had just, like, bumped into each other in the kitchen or something,” Alvarez said.

“Alvarez,” Jeremy said, surprisingly good natured. “Look who you’re talking to. You know me better than that. We could’ve figured this out day _one_ and you still would’ve gotten just as much bitching from me.”

“God, that’s probably true, huh?” Alvarez said, with a melodramatic eye roll.

Jeremy just smiled one of his sunshine smiles at her.

Jean was already feeling desperate to get this over with. “We are going to be late for practice,” he said.

“Right,” Jeremy said, coming to his rescue. “Right, yeah. I can’t be late. I’m captain. That’s a horrible example for this team. Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

“You’ve been late plenty of times,” Alvarez told him. “You’re just trying to avoid me.”

Jeremy shrugged, turning his smile back on her. “Maybe,” he chirped, “we still need to get inside.”

Laila narrowed her eyes at him, but Jeremy just turned and started out across the parking lot. Alvarez called out indignantly and followed him. Jean made to do the same, but Laila stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Jean turned to her, tilting his head to one side imploringly.

She seemed more serious now, her face set but still soft. “Okay. No more bullshit. Is everything okay now?” She asked. “You know. With you and Jer.”

Jean swallowed, and gave her a nod. Things were… Much better than okay between Jeremy and himself. “We’re okay,” he told her. “Thank you.”

“Good,” she said, “I know you were kinda freaking out last week.”

_Freaking out_ was probably and understatement. He’d been terrified he was about to lose the person he cared for most. He’d been… kind of a wreck, and Laila had been kind enough to talk him through it. “Yes. Well. We worked everything out.”

Laila snorted. “Uh. Yeah. I kinda figured,” he gave him a pointed look. Or, she gave his _cheek_ a pointed look.

Jean was sure he was going very red. “We had worked things out before _that_ ,” he told her.

Laila hummed. “Good, good,” she said with a nod.

Jean spent a few seconds searching her face. “Everything is fine now, Laila,” he told her. “Don’t worry about us.”

Laila arched an eyebrow. “You sure?” She asked. “‘Cause the two of you were. Well. No offense, but you seemed pretty miserable after the party. And I don’t like seeing my friends miserable.”

“We are not miserable anymore,” Jean confirmed for her. Yeah. He’d felt pretty far from miserable this last weekend he’d spent with Jeremy. “We’re good.”

Laila nodded, and relaxed, her shoulders slumping. “Okay. Good,” she smiled at him. “So no more making yourself miserable for no reason?”

“No more,” Jean agreed. He’d promised as much to himself and to Jeremy on Friday after the marks first appeared. No more being stupid and afraid.

Another nod from Laila. “So,” she said, “does this mean you two are, like, _together_ now, or something?”

If Jean's face hadn’t been red before, he definitely was now. At first, he wasn’t sure how to answer her. _Were_ they together? They hadn’t really… talked about the specifics of what things would look like for them moving forward. They’d really just talked about how poorly they had handled things in  the past. But Jean swallowed back his reservations. _No more being stupid and afraid_ , he reminded himself. “Yes,” he said, and then, because he couldn’t banish his anxieties completely, he added: “Something like that.”

Luckily, that seemed good enough for Laila, judging by the look she gave Jean.

“Hey!” Alvarez yelled form across the parking lot. She and Jeremy had already made it to the gym, and were waiting by the door. “Now we really _will_ be late! C’mon!”

“She’s right,” Jean said, turning back to Laila. “We should go.”

“Fine, fine,” Laila relented. “But I’m happy for you.” She hooked her hand in the crook of Jean’s elbow and lead him away, towards where Jeremy and Alvarez were waiting for them. Jean was silent, but he felt something like happiness himself.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here we are ! the penultimate chapter ! we're almost done, holey moley ! yep. the next chap will be a wrap on the entire fic. yeesh. i've wanted to write a soulmate au for so long it feels so good to be this close to finishing my first one

A week later, and the Trojans faced the Foxes on their court. Only this time, they _won_. And then, a week after that, Jeremy and the rest of the team watched, live, as the Lions beat them, too. And just like that, the Trojans were staring at a Raven-less championship final against Penn State.

And then, somehow, as if he was watching it happen on television instead of living the moment himself in real time, Jeremy watched the team — _his_ team, this team he’d poured his heart and soul into for _five years_ , the team he loved like family — put everything they had into their last game of the season and win.

It didn’t feel real. Even long after the game had ended, after the official celebration at the stadium, after the team had migrated back to the dorms for a party that was bound to be loud enough to make every RA in the building deeply and truly hate the entire team’s guts, Jeremy felt like he was dreaming.

Five years. He’d wanted this for _five years_ , and actually reaching it now, in his last year on the team, felt too much like one of those cheesy sports movies to be real. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Definitely not in Jeremy’s real life.

He didn’t really start to believe it until the team’s after party was in full swing, after about the thousandth hug he’d received for the evening.

And, really, he should want to be here. He should definitely stick around for his team if nothing else. He was sure his presence must be wanted here. All those times he’d imagined winning championships over the years (which was more often than he really liked to admit), this was exactly what he’d pictured.

And still, there was really only one person he wanted to be with right now.

Jeremy found Jean easily enough. He wasn’t the tallest person on the team, but it was still hard to miss a six-foot-two backliner, even if he hadn’t been the most beautiful person in the room, which Jean did happen to be.

Jeremy picked his way through the crowd until he reached Jean, standing up on his toes. “Hey,” he said, softly enough that no one else could hear, putting a hand lightly on Jean’s shoulder.

Jean turned to him, ducking his head towards Jeremy’s. “Hello.”

“Can I show you something?” Jeremy asked.

Jean raised his eyebrows slightly, but he nodded.

Jeremy took Jean’s hand and grinned. “Come with me,” he said, and then he turned, leading Jean behind him. They dodged between bodies until they were out in the hallway, which wasn’t unoccupied, but was easier to move through. Jeremy forwent the elevators in favor of the stairs; on the fourth floor, they didn’t have much of a climb to the top.

He turned back, briefly, to make sure Jean was alright, but Jean still looked just as calm as he had all night. He took back his hand so he could push the door open, and gestured for Jean to precede him.

“After you,” Jean told him. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said. “Right.” So he went into the stairwell first, and lead Jean up passed the fifth floor, then the sixth, until he’d hit the top landing with a door bearing a big _Maintenance Only_ sign.

“Are we trespassing?” Jean asked behind him. He sounded accusatory, but Jeremy when threw him a look over his shoulder, he was smiling, an eyebrow raised.

“Kinda,” Jeremy told him as he pushed the door open as quietly as he could. “Or, well. Yeah. Definitely. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

This time, when he held the door, Jean obliged and stepped out onto the roof first. “What will the media think when if they were to find out USC’s golden boy regularly commits felonies?”

“Hey,” Jeremy said, following Jean out and holding onto the door handle as it closed so the door wouldn’t slam shut and give them away. Was trespassing even a felony? “It’s not a regular thing. Anymore.”

Jean looked at him, raising both his eyebrows. “Anymore?”

“Sara and I used to hang out up here her first year on the team,” Jeremy told him. There was a massive air-conditioning unit near the west-facing wall of the dorms, which, if they sat on it, would give them the best view they could get. Jeremy gestured Jean over to it.

“But you don’t anymore? How come?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Alvarez brought Laila here for their anniversary or something. They did this whole picnic thing, but then some maintenance guy caught them. Uh. In a compromising situation. And, like, students already weren’t supposed to come up here, but since then everyone on the Exy team has a lifetime ban. So I haven’t come up here since.”

“Is that because of the ban, or because you’re afraid of catching Laila and Alvarez in another ‘compromising situation’?” Jean asked with a smirk.

Jeremy shoved at Jean’s shoulder and hopped up on the A/C unit, letting his legs dangle over the edge. He wasn’t the shortest guy in the world, but the unit was big enough that his toes barely brushed the gravely rooftop. “Maybe it just stopped being fun with no one special to come up here with.”

Jean’s face softened, and he slid up on the air conditioner beside Jeremy. “And that’s why I’m here?”

Jeremy hummed, scooting over and hooking his arm through Jean’s, resting his head on his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s one reason. But this is also the best place to watch the sunset on campus.”

“ _That’s_ why we’re here?” Jean asked. “To watch the sunset?”

Jeremy hummed. “Yep,” he said. “I always wanted to watch it with someone I care about.”

Jeremy felt Jean rest his head on Jeremy’s. “You can watch a sunset with me anytime you like,” he said. “Are you sure you want to miss the party for this? We’ve just won championships. You should be celebrating.”

“This… is exactly what I want to be doing right now,” Jeremy told him, picking his head up so he could get a look at Jean. “The party’s not going anywhere any time soon. The sun’s going to set in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Jean said, nodding, and then, with a little less certainty, “Are you… Are you having a good time?”

Jeremy smiled. “I am,” he said. “I. Yeah. I really am.”

Jean nodded. “Okay,” he said, relaxing a bit, as if Jeremy hadn’t been the one to drag _him_ away from a party with his friends all the way up here just to see the tail end of a sunset in the middle of a city.

“Are you?” Jeremy asked him, a tad self-conscious now that he gave his actions some thought.

“Always, when I’m with you,” Jean told him, with absolutely no consideration for the way those simple words stole the breath out of Jeremy’s lungs right then and there.

So Jeremy did what seemed like the only reasonable thing to do, and he lean in so he could kiss Jean, bringing his hand up to his cheek to hold him there.

He wasn’t sure if he could convey it with just a kiss, but in that moment he needed to show Jean how obscenely lucky he felt, to be sitting here with this man who he loved more than anything, to… have that feeling reciprocated. But Jeremy wasn’t that good of a kisser, so it wound up being just a kiss.

He pulled back, pressed one more quick kiss to the tip of Jean’s nose, and rested his forehead against Jean’s shoulder.

A moment later he felt Jean’s fingers combing through the hairs at the back of his neck, which made Jeremy sigh contentedly.

“Some people say you only like me ‘cause I was the first person to be nice to you,” Jeremy blurted, and instantly cursed himself silently. Leave it to him to try and spoil such a perfect moment.

He could feel Jean staring down at him, but he didn’t look over. “Who says that?”

Jeremy shrugged. Truthfully? No one. Just the little anxiety demons that fed on Jeremy’s self-doubt and told him that once Jean got out in the world a little more and discovered Jeremy wasn’t the only decent human being that existed on this planet he’d never be able to keep his attention. “Just some people.”

Jean was silent for a moment, and Jeremy finally pulled himself off his shoulder. “You weren’t,” Jean said.

Now, Jeremy looked up at him, but found Jean looking straight ahead this time.

“Renee was the first person to be nice to me,” Jean said, so casually he could’ve been commenting about the weather. “And then there was Abby, and, probably a few other Foxes. So, you don’t even come close. You were third, at _best_. And that’s being generous.”

Jeremy set aside the heartbreak that came with knowing that no one had shown Jean real kindness until he met Renee Walker last year to deal with later. “I was the first person who was nice to you _here_ ,” he said instead.

Jean shrugged. “Maybe. And maybe that’s what I was drawn to at first,” he said, “but that’s not why I love you.”

Jeremy nodded numbly. That’s right, Jean didn’t just _like_ him. Jean _loved_ him.

“Oh.” It was definitely too pathetic and selfish to ask for all the reasons Jean _did_ love him, right?

“Oh?”

“Oh,” Jeremy repeated.

“Jeremy. I—“ Jean huffed. “I’m not very good at this,” he explained. “This isn’t— I’ve never done this before. I am. Quite bad at putting these things into words. So, just… bare with me for a bit, alright?” He took Jeremy’s hand, and at first Jeremy thought he was going to hold it, but then he turned it over and traced a finger over the mark on his palm.

“Before this, I thought— I didn’t think we would ever be able to work because. Because I’m just… so different from you. And, we are different, I don’t think I was wrong about that.”

Now Jeremy couldn’t _stop_ looking at him, even though Jean was still staring intently at his palm. The last light of the fading sunset made Jean look like his was practically glowing. “But. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. It doesn’t have to mean that you and I are incomparable. It is— It’s the opposite. We fit together. We are… complimentary.

“And, I do love your kindness, but I don’t just love you _because_ you’re kind to me. It’s… all of you. I. You are. Gentle, and very brave, and warm, and passionate, and… unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable?” Jeremy said, before he could stop himself and hoping he hadn’t just cut Jean off while he was bearing his soul.

Jean nodded. “Yes.”

Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” Jean said again. “It’s like—“ He pursed his lips, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards like he was trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “You don’t always say the _perfect_ thing, but what you do say is always… Unexpected,” he said. He took his hands back, letting Jeremy’s go, so he could use it to gesture as he talked. “And that’s kind of perfect to me.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said, nodding slowly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Jean looked over at Jeremy for a moment, before he dropped his eyes to his hands, which he folded in his lap now. “Think about the type of things I have come to predict and expect of people.” Right. Jean had spent the past decade of his life living with the _Ravens_. “You are the exact opposite of that. You took me by surprise, and you reminded how to feel hopeful.”

Jeremy felt his ears and cheeks start to warm. “That’s kinda cheesy,” he said.

“Yes,” Jean said, his face softening a fraction. “I don’t mind that so much anymore, though.”

“Fair enough,” Jeremy said, biting back a smile. “Cheesy’s good with me. I can do cheesy.”

Jean turned his head and caught Jeremy’s eye, and for a moment that was it. They just looked at each other, a loaded but somehow not awkward silence filling the space around them. He always appreciated that about spending time with Jean; none of the quiet ever felt awkward. There was never that pressing anxiety in his guts that told him he needed to find something, _anything_ to say before the other person decided he was a total freak and never spoke to him again.

Maybe it was a soulmate thing, or maybe it was a Jean thing, but with him Jeremy could just… _Be_. It was really beautiful to just exist in the same space as someone else, especially someone he cared so deeply for.

And then, finally, Jean averted his gaze. “If anything, I—“ he started, but almost immediately clamped his mouth shut and cut himself off.

“You what?” Jeremy asked, resting his hand on top of Jean’s.

Jean shook his head. “Never mind.”

Maybe he shouldn’t push it, and normally he wouldn’t, but this felt like one of those times when pushing was the right thing to do. “No, tell me,” Jeremy said.

Jean let out a quiet sigh. “I just… Sometimes I wonder what you could possibly see in me. If it weren’t for the order of events, I would have assumed it was only because of the marks.”

Oddly enough, Jeremy had kind of expected this. After what he’d said, he kind of figured Jean would be thinking along those lines. Apparently they could both use some help in the self-esteem department. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I fell for you before we knew anything about the marks,” he said. “So you’ll always know that’s not the case.”

“Yeah,” Jean agreed noncommittally.

“Okay,” Jeremy bit back a smile. “Is it my turn now?”

“Your turn?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “You got to be all sappy and tell me why you love me. Is it my turn?”

Jean’s brows furrowed together, but his cheeks went all dusty pink. “Must you?”

“Oh, I must,” Jeremy told him. He scooched sideways a little, so he was half-facing Jean, one leg dangling off the edge and the other folded up with his foot tucked under his thigh. He tucked his fingers around Jean’s hand and gaze a light squeeze. “Look,” he started, “Jean, I’m not very good at this either. My track record with… dating and romance and love and stuff is really awful,” he admitted.

“At least you _have_ a track record,” Jean said.

“You do, too,” Jeremy told him.

Jean shrugged. “One person hardly counts as a track record. And we never really… We were just lonely, desperate kids.”

“Hey, I dated plenty of guys in high school just ‘cause I was lonely and desperate,” Jeremy offered. “That still counts for something.”

Apparently without anything else to say, Jean shrugged again, with even less conviction.

“But. Okay. That’s not the point,” Jeremy continued. “The point is. I’m not good at this. But I love you like crazy. Because you’re the most incredible person I know. You’re brave, you’re intelligent, you’re funny, you make me smile, and you’re, like, literally the strongest person I’ve ever met. And, fuck, that’s just the surface of the barrel. There’s so many other reasons I’m not even thinking of right now. You just—” Jeremy let out a soft breath. “You’re amazing. You made this year _so_ amazing, Jean.”

Jean sucked in his lower lip and let it out with a quiet breath. “I’ve never been in love before,” he admitted. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Can I tell you something?” It was mostly rhetorical, but he still waited for Jean’s nod to continue. “Neither have I. I mean, I thought I had. A lot of times in the past I thought I was in love. But.” And he had to pause, just for a minute, while the whole truth settled over him. “But, if this what really loving someone feels like. I haven’t… This is new. So,” he pushed on, before he could feel too insecure about all this vulnerability. “Maybe we don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. We can just. Figure it out together.”

Jean chewed on that for a moment, before giving one, swift nod. “Right,” he said. “So that’s settled, then, yes?”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he agreed.

And for now, it was. Jeremy knew that they might never really stop needing reassurance; each one of them on their own had enough insecurities for a dozen people put together, so _together_ they probably had enough to take down an entire Exy team. But that just meant they were uniquely suited to deal with it when said insecurities reared their nasty little heads. Because he knew exactly how it felt to feel unwanted and unloveable, Jeremy would never have a problem reminding Jean just how wanted he was, just how much he loved him, and vice versa. Jean was right; they fit together  really well.


	16. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna save all my yelling for the end notes so y'all can just get on w/ the fic

It was one of those days in Los Angeles where the weather was just warm enough to be pleasant, but not so warm to reach the stifling temperatures that were so common in the city. Everything felt calm and slow and just a little lazy, even though Jean had just gotten out of a final exam, and Jean took his time walking from his classroom to the parking lot, where he’d be meeting up with Laila and Alvarez to drive back to the dorms.

The sun felt so good against his skin, he considered just, stopping. Standing there for a moment, eyes closed, giving it a moment to kiss his face. The only thing that stopped him was knowing he would be holding up Alvarez, who’d texted him half an hour ago letting him know her class got out early and that she’d be waiting for him in the parking lot.

Still, if he walked a little slower than he might normally have done, Alvarez didn’t need to know that.

Only, when Jean got to the parking lot, he never found Alvarez. He knew her car was parked somewhere in the sea of others, the power-blue Jeep blending in with all the other colors and makes and models. But Jean didn’t even look.

It sometimes took ages to locate specific cars in the mess that was student parking, but it had only taken Jean a second to zero in on the little yellow sedan parked one row back from the curb.

Jean saw Jeremy before Jeremy saw him.

Jeremy was leaning back on the hood of his car, one ankle hooked over the other, his phone held tightly in both his hands, texting someone and not looking up. For about a second-and-a-half, Jean just stood there right where he was, frozen, his mind crawling to a dead standstill. And then Jeremy was stashing his phone in his pocket, and looking up, and then his eyes were meeting Jean's, and Jean's heart was punching his body into motion.

Jean dropped his bag right there on the sidewalk, and he started over towards him as fast as he could without actually running.

Apparently Jeremy didn’t have the same reservations. He pushed himself off his car and downright sprinted over to meet Jean, actually throwing himself into his arms. Jean caught him, and Jeremy wrapped his arms around Jean’s shoulders and his legs around Jean’s waist. Then Jean held on like his life depended on it.

It had only been seven weeks, four days, and approximately 8 hours (not that Jean was counting or anything) since the last time Jean had seen Jeremy, but right now he felt the time apart like an ache in his bones that he hadn’t noticed until Jeremy reappeared and it finally stopped.

People were probably staring. Or, hell, maybe they weren’t. Either way, Jean didn’t care. Maybe he would’ve, when he and Jeremy first started dating, but by now he had two years and a lot of growth (and therapy) behind him since he left the Ravens. He wasn’t the same frightened boy he’d been back then. So rather than having a meltdown, Jean just buried his face against Jeremy’s neck and blocked out the rest of the world.

The only thing that mattered to him in that moment was that he finally had Jeremy back in his arms.

Regardless of how much he might want to, Jean know they couldn’t just stand like that forever, and he eventually released Jeremy and reluctantly let him drop back to the ground. It was worth it to see the way Jeremy was smiling at him, even if he only got to enjoy for a moment before Jeremy was pulling him into a kiss.

After a breathless moment, they broke apart, and Jean mumbled “I missed you,” against Jeremy’s lips.

Jeremy pressed one more kiss to the corner of Jean’s mouth before pulling back completely, taking hold of Jean’s hands. “I missed you, too,” he said, “like crazy.”

“What are you doing here?” Jean asked. “Don’t you— I thought you had a game tonight? How are you _here_ right now?”

Jeremy shrugged. “You graduate tomorrow,” he said, “There’s no way in hell I would miss that for _anything_.”

Jean was so happy to see him, he could almost suppress the little twinge of guilt he felt. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, flushing in spite of himself. “You didn’t have to move your life around just to be here.”

Jeremy gave him a look. “We both know that’s not true,” he said, a little more serious this time.

He was right. A few years ago, graduation had been like a deadline for Jean. Most days he hadn’t seen any reason to keep going at all, and pushing forward after graduation seemed entirely pointless. He’d known he was never going to be able to escape Riko or the Nest, that wherever he went he’d still be in Riko’s clutches, shadowed by fear and pain. Granting that Riko hadn’t killed him already, Jean's plan never included staying alive after he left school.

But things were different now.

Graduation was still significant, but it was significant for an entirely new reason now. Instead of marking the end of whatever passed for a life for Jean, tomorrow marked the beginning of a new life he’d never planned for.

Sure, he still had that obligation to Ichirou hanging over his head, but even that didn’t feel as vice-like as it once had. The necessity to keep playing felt like background noise when that was just one facet of the real, beautiful life he’d spent the last two years building for himself from the ground up, one that he would get to _keep_ building for the next… However many years he managed to stay alive past his self-set expiration date.

Jean wondered, briefly, if Jeremy was here to celebrate this new beginning or if he was here to make sure Jean didn’t do anything stupid tomorrow. Maybe he was here for both reasons. Then again, maybe it didn’t matter. Jeremy was _there_ , and Jean was happy about that, so why should he second guess everything?

Jean shoved his thoughts aside and squeezed Jeremy’s hands. “I’m very glad you’re here,” he said.

Jeremy beamed up at him, and that smile was warmer and more radiant than the sun could ever dream of being. “Me, too,” he said, leaning in closer.

Good god, Jean wanted to kiss him again, but the awareness that he was standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot was gradually returning to him, and with it came his nerves and self-consciousness. Apparently it was returning to Jeremy, too, because he pulled back a moment later with a blush creeping up his cheeks. “So, um,” he started, “are you all packed up and everything?”

Jean smiled. He’d take that as a thinly-veiled attempt to get Jean alone in his dorm if this were anyone else. But this was _Jeremy_ , so he probably did just honestly want to help Jean pack.

“I still have some work left to do,” Jean told him. “I was going to finish tonight.” He paused, and then reconsidered with the new information that he’d have Jeremy in his room all night. “Or tomorrow, after graduation.”

Jeremy nodded. “Right, cool,” he said, smiling. “So do you wanna, like, go back? I could help you finish packing. Or we could just. Hang out.”

Jean almost laughed. That was definitely less subtle, but Jean didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he even had all that much to pack. In two years he’d only acquired enough material possessions to fill a handful of boxes and maybe a backpack if he was being generous. He could finish it all on his own in an hour if he hurried. “Yes,” he said nonetheless. “That sounds good.”

“Cool,” Jeremy said, nodding, and still smiling. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket, and gestured over his shoulder at the car. “Shall we go?”

“I should find Alvarez first,” Jean said, despite his reluctance to take his eyes off Jeremy for even a second. “I have to tell her I won’t need a ride anymore.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, his cheeks flushing even darker. “Actually. I already told her. Uh, well, no. I mean. She already left. Her class got out early, and I ran into her. And I asked her to text you, to get you out here. Which sounds weird as hell when I say it out loud, but—” he shrugged, avoiding Jean’s eyes— “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“That is not weird,” Jean told him. “It’s cute.” Of course, in his eyes pretty much anything Jeremy did was cute, but he didn’t need to say that right now.

Jeremy looked up at him, a hint of surprise on his features. “You’re cute,” he said.

Jean shoved at Jeremy’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said, “get in the car.”

Jeremy twisted out from under Jean’s hand, laughing softly as he went, but he did as he was told and made for the sedan. Jean had to double back to grab his bag off the sidewalk, but then he followed Jeremy and slid into the car through the passenger side door. As Jeremy started the car, Jean couldn’t help but stare, taking in Jeremy’s profile as he pulled out of the parking space. The way he saw it, he had two months of separation to make up for, so he wasn’t about to turn away now. 

There was something that clicked into place now that Jeremy was here with him. Maybe it was because they were soulmates, or maybe it was because he was desperately in love with Jeremy, but whenever they were apart it felt like the world was tilted a few degrees in the wrong direction, like something was just _slightly_ off. It was bearable, it was something he could live with, but having Jeremy here just made things feel right again.

Even though they texted every day, called each other most nights, and video chatted on Skype at least once a week, it still felt like there was so much to catch up on. So they spent the entire car ride talking. Jeremy would probably always be the more talkative of the two of them, but when Jean was with him he felt himself start to open up, too.

They’d been making the whole long distance thing work, but Jean was infinitely glad that after this weekend he would be in the same city as Jeremy again. On Sunday, Jean would pack his boxes up into Jeremy's car, and they would drive up to San Francisco together so Jean could start his contract with his pro team. They wouldn’t be living together like last year (Jean had never had any kind of space that was only  _his_ , so he’d decided that for now, at least, he wanted his own apartment) but they were going to be playing together on the same team again, and they’d be able to see each other whenever they wanted to.

They were about to start their lives together.

Jean’s heart gave a giddy little leap at the notion. Rather than coming to an untimely end, his life was about to _begin_. And it was beginning with things he’d never even dreamed of having: freedom, autonomy, happiness, friends who’d turned into family, a soulmate who stuck by his side, and… love. A lot of love. Two years ago, he hadn’t even known what love felt like. Today, he was surrounded by it on all sides; from his team, from Laila and Alvarez, from Jeremy.

Jeremy must have felt Jean’s eyes on him, or maybe he could read his mind, because he turned to give Jean a smile before flicking his eyes back to the road.

Jean had been dating Jeremy for over a year. He should be immune to that smile by now, and yet his heart still did another of those spastic flips in his chest.

At least that flutter didn’t scare him now like it used to. It still scared him some, but _some_ fear was better than the debilitating panic he’d felt when he first figured out he was in love with Jeremy, or when he'd seen their marks.

Maybe one day the fear would vanish entirely. Or maybe it wouldn’t. The part of him that just saw all the good things in his life as things he had to lose might never go away entirely, but it was quieter now than it had ever been. He could manage it. He could overcome it. And the part that told him to just accept happiness was getting loud enough to drown it out. For the first time in his life, Jean had a future, and for the first time in his life, that future actually looked bright. That was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's DONE !!!
> 
> this chap is a short one, i know. it's not exactly Thrilling Conclusion. just a quick wrap up, and a look at jean's life one year post-soulmark as he prepares to leave the trojans. 
> 
> gosh. i was really hoping i could get this bad boy up to 50k but djfhgdjkhg we fell juuuuust shy huh. ~45k is Good Too ! 
> 
> jeez. well, first things first, i wanna give a huge shout out to All of y'all for reading, commenting, kudo-ing, supporting me, and just all around being really fucken great. thanks for putting up with.... all of my nonsense. i'm always nervous to post my writing, but y'all make it worth it ! i wouldn't dream of writing for literally any other fandom dfjghdkjfgh
> 
> thanks for letting me Indulge myself here. i know my writing is soft and cheesy and outrageously self indulgent, but honestly, if u have a problem with that kind of writing i just have to assume that you've never indulged yourself and just written the cheesiest shit your heart desires, because Nothing will ever be as fun as that. seriously, give it a try. it's Healing! it's self care!
> 
> this was my first soulmate au ! which is something i've wanted to write basically since i started writing back in two-thousand-the-fuck-sixteen !! and as much as i enjoyed writing it, i'm so excited to have this thing done. it wasn't the emotional undertaking that sfts was, but writing forty-five-thousand words sure as hell still takes a lot out of a bitch, yenno? it's a good thing i fucking love writing fluff.
> 
> that being said, this is most certainly Not my last soulmate au. i've a renison soulmate au in the works for ages, and actually, if y'all r interested, i'm currently writing a kevneil soulmate au set in the same universe as this one. (there's literally no overlap and the two fics don't influence each other at all, but the soulmark system i used here was also perfect for that fic so i just decided to set them in the same universe.) not sure when i'll get that posted but if ur into that sorta thing feel free to pop over to my profile to check it out.
> 
> ok!!! now onto some shameless plugs :3c wanna come talk to me about jerejean, jean moreau, aftg, or literally anything else under the sun? well, seems like ur looking to hmu on [my tumblr](http://trojean.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> like my writing and wanna see some of it that never made it here to ao3? well, ur in luck, because i have [an entire tag for my writing](http://trojean.tumblr.com/tagged/prem-writes), filled with lots of drabbles and prompt fills !!!
> 
> ok. i think that's all from me. wow. thank you all again, i really hope u all enjoyed this, i love u, bye!


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